A DOZEN YEARS OF 'ALMOSTS': an E&C Retrospective
by MightyMiaBoo
Summary: Based partly on spoilers for episode 8.20. A retrospective of my favorite Calleigh & Eric 'missed opportunity' moments throughout the series, told from Eric's P.O.V. as he sits vigil by her hospital bed in 'Backfire.' *FINAL CHAPTER UP!*
1. Chapter 1: Prologue & Introductions

**A DOZEN YEARS OF "ALMOSTS": an Eric & Calleigh Retrospective****  
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**by Mia**

**Summary:** Based partly on _spoilers_ for episode 8.20. A retrospective of my favorite Calleigh & Eric "missed opportunity" scenes/moments throughout the series, told from Eric's P.O.V. as he sits vigil by her hospital bed in "Backfire."

(In some chapters, I'll exercise a bit of literary license to extend a few E/C scenes actually appearing in the show, and/or to add a "continuation scene" or two that I would've liked to see following certain E/C show-moments).

**Featured Characters:** Calleigh Duquesne and Eric Delko

**Rating:** T (PG-13). This fic will not turn into an "M," I promise (LOL)!

_Disclaimer__: I do __not__ own the characters from "CSI: Miami," or any dialogue from episodic scripts that I've incorporated into my story. The rights to those characters, the scripts and to the show belong to the creators of the show, Jerry Bruckheimer Television, and CBS.

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**A Dozen Years of "Almosts": an Eric & Calleigh Retrospective****  
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_A/N: This first section is a bit longer than my other chapters will likely be, because it consists of a Prologue plus Chapter 1. Future chapters may be somewhat shorter._

**Prologue**

Eric sits numbly at Calleigh's hospital bedside, barely hearing the rhythmic beeping emanating from the nearby ventilator. He fights back tears of panic as he tenderly strokes the cool, pallid skin of her hand, noticing how small - how fragile - it feels in his palm. If someone had told him that he'd be in this position again just over a year after Calleigh's last brush with death, he would've laughed in their face and labeled them overly-pessimistic at best, and at worst, delusional. Admittedly, both his job and Calleigh's bring them face-to-face on a daily basis with the most morbid aspects of humanity, but, nonetheless, he would've liked to think that even fate couldn't be this cruel. Yet here he is again, keeping vigil over the woman he loves more than anything, fighting the sickening sense of dread that coils ever tighter in his gut. The feeling of déjà-vu is overwhelming and inescapable, weighing on his mind like a lead cloak.

Last year, when he sat in an eerily similar spot, praying to God, all the saints, and every deity he knew of to help Calleigh survive her near-fatal bout of smoke-inhalation, he told himself that if she did pull through, he would go to the ends of the earth to make sure she knew how he felt about her. Throughout his life, he'd heard the platitudes about "living each day like it was your last," and he'd always thought of them as somewhat trite; but they resonated deeply with him when he faced the real prospect of losing Calleigh for good. He vowed that if she came back to him from the brink of death, he'd bite the bullet and suggest that they be true partners, romantically as well as professionally. And if she said yes (which, thankfully, she did), he'd do his darndest to make her happy.

Those lofty intentions were, sadly, skewered in the wake of his subsequent screw-ups. Despite knowing how jealously Calleigh guarded her trust, and despite his determination to prove himself different from the succession of men who'd betrayed it, Eric simply ended up following their suit. He watched the glow of new love in her eyes gradually dim as he kept secrets from her; first about his biological father, and then, about his abrupt decision to leave CSI permanently.

Now, as he looks back on it all, Eric can't help but think about how much time he's wasted; and another wave of agonizing regret washes over him when he considers what his mistakes might cost him if Calleigh never wakes up. She might die without ever knowing just how much he loves her, because he's never actually said the words to her. Over the years, they've both hinted at it and talked around it, but he's never had the guts to lay his emotions completely on the line, and the possibility that he may never get to do so causes Eric's head to swim. He supposes that he shouldn't really be surprised at this painfully ironic situation - after all, in the dozen or so years he's known Calleigh, their relationship has often seemed like a series of missed opportunities and lost moments. The ambient noise from the hospital slowly fades away as Eric sits back and loses himself in the memories of the numerous "almosts" that have led them to this point ...

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**Chapter 1 - Introductions**

The moment he first laid eyes on Calleigh Duquesne would be forever burned into Eric Delko's brain. A bit at a loss as to what to do with his chemistry degree from the University of Miami, he'd been working as a tow-truck driver (or "automotive recovery expert," as he preferred to call himself), so he could make some money while figuring out what to do with his life. That day, in a rather unusual and exciting turn of events, a car that he'd pulled from the Florida Everglades had become a crime scene when he'd discovered a dead body in the trunk. He'd just brought the vehicle in question to the MDPD's vehicle storage facility for police processing, when Calleigh first walked into his life. Truth be told, he felt her before he saw her; he sensed her approaching behind him, like a ball of energy or force of nature drawing him to her like a magnet to metal. When she called out to him to get his attention (little did she know how much of it she already had), he turned to face her, curious to see whose presence was causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. When his gaze finally came to rest upon her, he felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. To call her "beautiful" was an understatement. "Stunning" was more like it, if his dumbfounded reaction to her was any indication. And she only made things worse - or better, depending on your standpoint - by giving him one of what he would come to think of as her trademark, vivacious Calleigh-smiles, with the power to weaken the knees and capture the heart of just about every red-blooded male she came into contact with. Her eyes were a vivid shade of emerald green, full of contagious enthusiasm coupled with a hint of sass and an undertone of wide-eyed innocence, which made him feel oddly protective of her.

As borderline-corny as it sounded, she looked like a cross between a sun-goddess and an angel, with pin-straight, glossy blond hair that hung down her back. Eric wondered at his sudden urge to run his hands through the lustrous strands, since he traditionally tended to gravitate towards brunettes; the taller and leggier, the better. In contrast, Calleigh was a potent dose of fair-haired femininity all wrapped up in a petite package. To sum it up, although she possessed all of the attributes that he didn't normally consider his "type," he nonetheless found himself totally, utterly, and completely gobsmacked by her. Eric usually regarded himself as pretty smooth when it came to interacting with attractive women, but he caught himself gawking at her like a fumbling teenage boy, sporting a silly grin as his eyes shamelessly swept over her form.

If he thought he'd been knocked flat on his rear just by her appearance, it was the sound of her voice that truly did him in. It was literally music to his ears, a melodic Southern twang that he already knew he'd never get tired of hearing. He wondered briefly whether her lilting accent would become more pronounced when she was excited, angry, or, better still, in the throes of passion. That last image was particularly distracting, and he had to force himself to focus on what she was actually saying so he wouldn't look like a complete fool.

From her perky introduction, he was able to glean that Calleigh was a new member of Horatio Caine's investigative police team, and that she'd come to take the car on his tow truck off his hands. Eric had run into Horatio occasionally over the past couple of years, when his towing services had been needed at one of H.'s crime scenes. Eric liked and respected Horatio, and normally, this might have caused him to think twice before hitting on a member of H.'s team. But before that cautionary thought could make it from Eric's brain to his mouth, he was asking for Calleigh's phone number, giving her that slow, suave smile that signaled that he was interested in much more than friendly chit-chat.

He'd scarcely uttered the cheesy pick-up line before Calleigh shot him down in the sweetest, but most cruel of ways: She burst into giggles. Despite the fact that she was turning him down cold, Eric couldn't help but join her in laughter, recognizing the humor in his somewhat uninspired overtures. Underneath it all, he quietly admired her spunk and willingness to call him on his B.S. One thing was for certain; the lovely Officer Duquesne was no shrinking violet. They'd only known each other for a grand total of two minutes, but already, she'd seen right through his feeble attempt at posturing and gone straight for the truth. That made her a refreshing change from his normal dating circles, where game-playing and little-white-lies were the norm.

Eric **almost** persisted, sorely tempted to remind Calleigh that he really wasn't, as she put it, "even remotely related" to her job. After all, he worked for a private towing company that wasn't under contract with the MDPD; and it was just a fluke that the car he'd pulled out of the Everglades happened to be related to a crime. He wanted to reassure her that their professional paths would never have a reason to cross, so it was okay for them to socialize after-hours.

But a little voice in his head made him hold his tongue. He'd only just met Calleigh, but Eric could already tell that she was a woman you committed to for the long-haul; not one of the girlfriends-of-the-week or flavors-of-the-month that he tended to favor so much at this point in his life. Right now, he had a feeling that he didn't have it in him to be the kind of man she deserved. He never wanted to be the one to put tears in her gorgeous jade eyes, and he'd most certainly end up doing just that if they got romantically involved. So he let her gentle rejection slide for the time being, answering her with a cryptic "we'll see ..." (If only he knew how prophetic his words would turn out to be!)

Looking back on it, it was probably for the best that they didn't date back then, since a few months later, at Horatio's suggestion, Eric enrolled in the police academy and then joined the MDPD's CSI team upon graduation. So he and Calleigh ended up being co-workers after all ...

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_This is my 1st multi-chapter "CSI: Miami" fic, so please R&R. I love feedback, but please be kind. Future chapters will depend in part on people's comments, esp. as to whether the theme of this story is an avenue worth pursuing. Thanks in advance._


	2. Chapter 2: The Deal

**Chapter 2 - The Deal**

"On the couch ... no midnight tiptoe, deal?"

Calleigh's words resonated repeatedly in Eric's head like an echo inside a huge cave. He was now lying on said couch contemplating her ceiling, as he had been for the past four hours, having given up two hours ago on trying to catch the much-needed rest that eluded him. He sighed dejectedly and then fell silent, listening for any signs of life coming from the direction of her bedroom. Not surprisingly, there were none, especially since it was three o'clock in the morning. Sleeping Beauty Duquesne was, no doubt, in dreamland, slumbering peacefully a couple of rooms over - so close, but so far away - blissfully ignorant of the torment he was suffering in her vicinity.

From the moment Eric had asked to stay at her place overnight to avoid the anti-police sentiment in his predominantly Cuban-American neighborhood, he'd had a sinking feeling that it would turn out to be one of the most harebrained ideas of his life. But the self-censorship function in his brain tended to go into "failure" mode at the most inconvenient times whenever Calleigh was around. So before he knew it, he was inviting himself to her home for the evening; and for some weird reason, he couldn't get his tongue to cooperate in issuing a retraction of his hasty request.

To make matters even more interesting, right after Eric had agreed to her "hands off" terms, Calleigh had beckoned him over to check out some bullet striation comparisons, thus beginning his complete undoing. He'd sidled up behind her to look at the images from the microscope and caught a whiff of the intoxicating scent emanating from her hair: A mixture of light vanilla, some kind of fruit (strawberry would be his guess), and a smidge of fragrance unique to Calleigh. The resulting heady feeling of want had hit him like a sack of potatoes, leading him to question his sanity in making her a promise that it would take super-human willpower to keep. Luckily, he'd been able to turn his attention back to the case at hand before he did something really crazy, like blurting out how good she smelled.

In actuality, the night in question had started out innocuously enough. They'd ordered in Chinese and cracked open a couple of beers; and had then proceeded to watch an abysmally bad horror movie so devoid of a plot that it had been more comical than frightening. Aside from the fact that the dulcet tone of Calleigh's laughter had made Eric's heart skip a beat or two, they'd maintained their always effortless, amiable rapport. It'd occurred to him that although this hadn't been the first time they'd done dinner-and-a-movie, it _had_ been their first time without Speedle in tow. But if a similar perception had crossed her mind, she hadn't let on; seemingly content to just enjoy his company without any further expectations.

Just when Eric had begun to believe that he might actually survive this evening without putting his foot in his mouth - or his "toes" in her bedroom, as the case might be - she'd had to decimate his already tenuous hold on his libido by stopping by his perch on the couch to check on him before retiring for the night. Not that there had been anything wrong with that, _per se_. In fact, the ever-present Southern Belle in Calleigh had probably thought that she was merely being a good hostess by making sure he was comfortable before hitting the sack herself. But he'd only been able to focus on the sound of running tap water and the sweetly seductive scent of soap coming from her bathroom. As every adult male with a pulse knew, those two things could only lead to one conclusion: Calleigh had been planning to take a bubble bath. That realization had pretty much been the proverbial nail in his coffin. When she'd asked him if he needed anything else before she turned in, his eyes had searched her face for a few loaded seconds, looking for some hint of feminine awareness. Surely, she must have known that the notion of her in a bubble bath would conjure up sensual images of her nude body, surrounded by tufts of frothy foam playing hide-and-seek with the succulent curves that he'd die to get his hands on. But her expression had revealed nothing but friendly concern and apparent obliviousness to the havoc that her presence, and his hormones, had been wreaking on him.

Much to his chagrin, things didn't improve after bedtime. If anything, the serene quiet that descended over the house kicked the wheels turning in his head into high gear; and without any distractions, his mind was free to engage in all kinds of foolhardy flights of fancy. Although his imaginings naturally included several racy scenarios starring his blonde co-worker, what really threw him for a loop was the recurrent, innocent fantasy in which he was curled up behind her, snuggling as they slept. No sex, or even a little foreplay ... just the two of them savoring a pleasant sense of closeness and contentment while enjoying their repose. He was a little surprised at how appealing this idea was to him, since, if there was one thing he knew for certain about himself, it was that Eric Delko _never_ cuddled with a woman unless it was after some pretty heavy-duty fornication. And then, only long enough to go for round two, or to think of a way to make a graceful exit. Needless to say, sleeping over the entire night was an activity reserved for ladies he was in a committed relationship with, and God knows, at this stage of his life, they were few and far between. Yet, right now, he could think of nothing he wanted more than to wake up to Calleigh's sunny smile and mussed hair in the morning; an urge so strong that it scared him a little.

Eric was so engrossed in his reverie that he almost missed the subtle sound of Calleigh's footsteps padding towards the living room. He quickly closed his eyes and adopted a deep, even breathing pattern, not wanting to clue her into his raging case of insomnia. If she knew that he hadn't so much as snoozed since bidding her goodnight, she'd doubtless want to know whether there was anything she could do to help. And, of course, telling her the reason for his restlessness was out of the question. He had to remind himself not to hold his breath as she passed by the couch on her way to the kitchen, since that would be a dead giveaway. (After all, as one of Florida's top CSIs, she was well-known for her razor-sharp powers of observation).

Eric heard Calleigh opening a cupboard, and, assured that her back was to him, he tentatively inched open an eyelid, risking a glance at her. From what he could make out through the near-darkness, it looked like she was about to pour herself a glass of water. As she turned toward the fridge, a lone sliver of moonlight shone though a tiny gap in the curtains and glinted off her shiny, flaxen hair, making it seem almost iridescent. He found himself temporarily mesmerized by the sight. It was like something out of a dream sequence, and he had to mentally pinch himself to make sure that he hadn't managed to doze off after all.

After quenching her thirst, Calleigh embarked on her return trip to bed, and Eric shut his eyes once more and schooled his features into a placid appearance, expecting her to walk right by him in a matter of seconds. However, just as she reached the sofa, her footsteps suddenly stopped. He could feel her gaze on him, considering him, roaming slowly over his face and body. _Was she just making sure that he was sleeping peacefully? Did she want to talk? Or do something more? _Anxious questions assaulted him from all sides, gnawing at him almost to the point of pain. The unspoken words on the tip of Calleigh's tongue crackled in the air between them, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife; despite her belief that it was one-sided given his apparent state of dormancy. He **almost** opened his eyes to assure her that the feeling of anticipation was entirely mutual, and that he was just as acutely conscious of her as she was of him. He wanted desperately to confess his burning desire to trade the unforgiving solitude of her couch for the welcoming warmth of her bed and its gorgeous occupant.

But instead, Eric continued to feign sleep, valiantly quelling his longings as the self-doubt he'd tried so hard to brush aside began to rear its ugly head again. He pointedly reminded himself that, although _he_ was undoubtedly captivated by Calleigh, she'd never given him any indication that she thought of him as anything more than a trusted colleague and friend. Well, there had been that fleeting moment earlier at work when she'd asked him about his family making the treacherous ninety-mile journey by boat from Cuba to Miami. For that split-second, he could have sworn that her emerald orbs had regarded him with a hint of something more than mere platonic interest. And then, there was the fact that the first thought that had popped into her mind when he'd asked to crash at her place, had been the prospect of "midnight tiptoe." _Could that possibly mean that she'd picked up on his attraction to her, or better still, that she returned it?  
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Eric mentally shook himself, trying to put an end to his fruitless speculation. The fact remained that - as Calleigh had told him when they'd first met five years ago - she'd never date anyone associated with her job, much less someone with whom she worked directly. And while he'd gladly give his right arm for her to change her mind, he respected her too much to contradict her wishes by making an unwanted pass at her. So, as far as he was concerned, she remained strictly off-limits, at least for the time being.

Before he could second-guess himself yet again, he felt Calleigh take her eyes off him and heard her discreetly making her way back to the sanctuary of her bedroom. When her door closed, he couldn't help thinking that it might as well have been the Great Wall of China, and he smirked resignedly at his plight. He clicked on the remote, hoping to lull himself into a boob-tube-induced stupor with some boring late-night TV. Anything to drown out the noisy, wayward musings that were bouncing around in his head.


	3. Chapter 3: Mermaids

**Chapter 3 - Mermaids**

_A/N: This is one of the more obscure E/C "moments," but it's one of my favorites. It's from "Dead Zone" (episode 2.02)._

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Ah, yes, the first time Calleigh Duquesne ever threw him a flirt. It would always hold a special place in Eric's heart. Ever since their first meeting, there had been a bit of an attraction between them, always bubbling just below the surface. But it had gone largely unacknowledged - especially by Calleigh - until that fateful day back in the late-summer of 2003. Recalling the first moment she _really_ looked at him with undisguised feminine interest never fails to bring a smile to his face.

He still remembers that day like it was yesterday, even though it was actually well over six years ago. The CSI team was investigating the homicide of treasure-hunter Paul Jackson, who'd been killed with a fishing spear aboard a boat a few miles off the coast of Miami. Predictably, their investigation entailed the gathering of a great deal of underwater evidence, and that meant quite a lot of diving for Eric. Not that he minded. Although he'd gradually developed a niche as a fingerprint expert, underwater recovery had been his first calling as a CSI, and it remained one of his favorite parts of the job.

Horatio, Calleigh and Eric spent the better part of the afternoon in question in the Cortez Trench, investigating the well known shipwreck-zone for clues that might give them some insight into Jackson's murder. The trio, along with the boat's driver, chatted companionably during the ride out to their designated dive site, but, in all honesty, Eric missed much of what was said since he was intensely focused on the lone female among them. Calleigh was wearing a halter top - quite understandable, given the scorching temperatures outside - and though her choice of outfit was doubtless innocent, it nonetheless drove him to distraction. It was hardly the first time Eric had seen her in a revealing blouse, since close-fitting tank tops were practically her signature back then. But there was something about her halter that made his pulse trip over itself. Perhaps it was the extra-low neckline that revealed a little more of her lovely cleavage than usual, or the fact that it was secured in place by a precarious-looking knot in the two thin straps. He pictured himself tugging on one of the strings and peeling the top from her body, exposing the nirvana that lay beneath it ...

Eric blinked, trying to rein in his errant daydreams. They were so vivid that, for an instant, he wondered whether he was already suffering from a touch of sunstroke, even though they'd taken off from port not too long ago. But deep down, he knew that his high-definition, erotic fantasies weren't caused by hallucinations from too much sun exposure. Rather, they were all due to the effect that his alluring colleague always seemed to have on his imagination, not to mention his sex drive. And while vain, self-conscious beauties were a-dime-a-dozen in Miami, Calleigh really seemed to be completely unaware of just how gorgeous she was, a trait that made her all the more desirable to him.

Right now, she was standing near the bow of the motorboat, her shades-clad face tilted up towards the sun, letting the sea air whip through her hair. The bright sunlight glittered playfully off the luminous strands, reminding him of the sunken gold that had attracted so many explorers to South Florida's shores. Her pale, velvety skin took on an enticing ruddiness from the rays overhead and the brisk breeze, becoming even more touchable-looking, if that were possible. She resembled a beguiling sea nymph, and Eric was totally entranced by her, hook, line and sinker.

Mercifully, the vessel arrived at their destination and broke Delko's reverie before the others noticed his wandering attention. Forcing his focus away from his unattainable fellow-CSI, he got down to business, suiting up and setting off on his dive.

Just under an hour later, Eric surfaced and swam back to the boat, eager to share his findings with the rest of the group. Calleigh was the first to greet him, grabbing the heavy camera from him so he could climb onto the upper deck to join them.

"What did you find?" she asked. The curiosity in her voice was evident, along with a tinge of something else that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"I swear I saw a mermaid," he gasped in answer, still trying to recover his breath.

"Dream on, Diver-Man," she teased, giving him a sassy smirk that made his already wobbly legs go weak in the knees. If only she knew how much dreaming he'd already been doing, with her in the starring role! For a split-second, he could have sworn that he detected a bit of a double-entendre in her words, but he just as quickly dismissed the thought, figuring that it must be due to nitrogen narcosis from his deep-sea diving. After all, he was feeling a bit lightheaded. Horatio confirmed as much when Delko was temporarily unable to remember several key details from his dive.

"Could explain why you thought you saw a mermaid," Calleigh commented dryly. Eric couldn't help but notice the come-hither glance she gave him as she uttered those seemingly innocuous words, and his heart - which was already racing from his recent exertion - skipped a beat. This time, however, what he saw couldn't be blamed on skewed perception from the lingering effects of nitrogen over-exposure on his brain. His blonde bombshell of a partner was regarding him with naked, unmistakable feminine interest - no doubt about it. While this was the first time he was lucky enough to earn that desirous stare from Calleigh, he'd gotten it many times in the past from other women who'd found him attractive. So much so that he could spot the look from a mile away. In fact, earlier that day, Dr. Christine Acheson from the State Archaeology Unit had given him a similar once-over, communicating her desire to join him for some extra-curricular activities. (Though, of course, that had been before Delko ended up arresting the marine archaeologist for defrauding the government by accepting kick-backs).

Calleigh obviously must have believed that her dark sunglasses were hiding her eyes; otherwise, the close-to-the-vest Southern Belle he knew would never have let him see her gaze raking over him in his tight wetsuit. But, unlike the others on-board the boat, Eric could see _everything_ behind her shades from the angle at which he was standing, and he was loving every second of it. The sheer thrill he got from finally knowing for sure that his attraction to her wasn't totally unrequited, caused an outbreak of ecstatic goosebumps all over his body. Thank goodness his neck-to-toe wetsuit was there to conceal the evidence of his reaction to her.

In response to Calleigh's droll conclusion, Eric **almost** quipped back that he'd already found his mermaid: A blonde vision who had two distractingly-curvy legs instead of a fish tail, with bewitching eyes that matched the turquoise color of the sea when the sunlight hit it _just so_. But then he remembered where they were and the company surrounding them, and he kept his risqué response to himself. Horatio was standing less than two feet away from them, anxious to get on with reviewing the underwater video, which amounted to a major damper on any amorous ideas that might have been floating around in Eric's head. Besides, he was pretty sure that if he said anything even remotely suggestive in H.'s presence, Calleigh would throw Eric overboard herself. If there was one thing he knew about the ballistics-expert, it was that she was a stickler for professionalism. In her view, flirting overtly in front of Horatio would've been the equivalent of a mortal sin.

And if Eric needed something else to bring him back down to earth, there was always the fact that she was dating John Hagen. Well, that was like dousing a flame with ice-cold water, wasn't it? Although she hid her relationship with Hagen as though she were guarding State secrets, most of her hyper-perceptive co-workers (including Eric) had figured it out. Hitting on "taken" women certainly wasn't an alien concept to Eric - heck, he'd even sneaked out of a bedroom window or two in the past, when his female companion's husband or boyfriend had unexpectedly shown up. But Calleigh deserved better than that, and he would never disrespect her with some cheesy come-on while she was seeing Hagen exclusively. Unlike so many of the girls he usually met while cruising the South Beach club circuit, she was the kind of lady that a man wanted to keep all to himself. And even though he wasn't at the settling-down stage right now, if, one day, he was lucky enough to end up with a woman like Calleigh, he was sure that the thought of her male co-workers making passes at her would cause his blood to boil. So he decided to leave well enough alone.

For the rest of their afternoon at sea, he'd have to make do with surreptitiously observing how the glare from the ocean's surface danced over her creamy skin - now slightly tanned and glowing fetchingly as a result of their outdoor police "treasure-hunting."


	4. Chapter 4: Appreciation

**Chapter 4 - Appreciation**

_A/N: I wrote much of this chapter when I was very sick and taking strong cold medication. So please forgive me if anything in here seems a bit loopy. (LOL)

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After that memorable maritime excursion, Fate had certainly taken her sweet time before presenting Eric and Calleigh with the next opportunity to become more-than-friends. The ensuing three years or so had been difficult ones for both of them, to say the least, and, as a result, any romantic notions had been firmly placed on the back-burner. First, Tim Speedle -- a good friend, fellow-CSI and loyal sidekick to both Eric and Calleigh -- had been killed in the line of duty, leaving his colleagues completely gutted. Eric had tried to escape his grief by losing himself in a year-long "toothing" binge, attempting to fill the emptiness inside him with meaningless, anonymous sexual encounters with women he barely knew. And Calleigh, for her part, had just begun to come to terms with Speedle's death when John Hagen had committed suicide in the Firearms Lab where she'd typically spent most of her workday. Admittedly, by that point, Hagen and Calleigh hadn't been an item for some time, but nonetheless, his death had shaken her to the core. And although she'd tried her best to put on a brave face at work, it had been plain as day to Eric that a part of her -- the part responsible for emotional involvement with men -- had shut down for a long time afterward. And just when it'd seemed like Calleigh might be ready to stick a cautious toe back in the dating pool, Peter Elliott had come along and sent her right back to square one. Of course, Eric hadn't been privy to the details of what had happened with Peter, since Calleigh had kept everything tightly under wraps. But when Peter's fiancée had mysteriously appeared out of thin air, it hadn't taken much for Eric to figure out that that had pretty much spelled the end of whatever had been going on between the Treasury Agent and the ballistics expert. Honestly, given that track-record, Eric couldn't really blame Calleigh for swearing-off romantic entanglements for a while.

But although that dark stretch after Speedle and Hagen's deaths had put all affairs of heart between Calleigh and Eric on a long hiatus, it was during that period that their friendship had really had a chance to flourish. Over the years, as they'd weathered both personal and professional storms together, they'd become much closer in all the ways that really mattered, without sex to complicate things. Calleigh had been one of the few people at MDPD whose belief in Eric had never wavered when it had come to light that he'd been buying marijuana for his sister Marisol, who'd been terminally-ill with cancer and suffering through chemotherapy. Calleigh had helped him through his grief with her trademark quiet strength following Marisol's death. And Eric had had Calleigh's back when the girlfriend of a Crypt Kings gang-member had run the female investigator's SUV off the road and into a canal, putting her life at risk and compromising evidence. Through all the trials and tribulations, Eric and Calleigh had established an unbreakable bond of profound trust, mutual respect, and true emotional intimacy that would serve as the foundation for things to come.

Indeed, when he looks back now on his feelings for her in the early years, Eric feels almost like an old man reminiscing about his first teenage infatuation. It seems like a lifetime ago, and so much happened -- changed -- since then. Ever since he'd first met Calleigh, and even more so after he'd joined the CSI team, he'd had an intense physical attraction to her, coupled with a fledgling friendship and a deep sense of admiration. But the crush he'd nursed back then -- as fierce as it had been -- paled in comparison to the emotions for her that surfaced within him after his first shooting three years ago.

It wasn't until after that pivotal event that the scales finally tipped in favor of romance for Eric and Calleigh again. With a bullet lodged in his brain, he'd literally stared Death in the face, and he was extremely lucky to have come out alive. Truth be told, that type of experience tended to make a man re-evaluate his life and, more importantly, the people in it. And naturally, Calleigh was at the top of that list. She was his rock, sticking unfailingly by his side as he struggled, first, just to survive, and then, when he slipped up time and time again as he tried to regain his footing at work. She was supportive, caring and understanding ... all of the things he came to realize that he wanted not only in a colleague or friend, but also in a girlfriend and eventually, a wife. When Eric and Calleigh had first started working together, the thought of settling down permanently with one woman would've made him break out in hives. At that juncture, he'd been in the middle of his "playboy" phase, and, as such, his focus had been on quantity rather than quality. But ever since the near-fatal gunshot that had changed his perspective, the prospect of a committed relationship grew significantly more appealing, especially when he pictured Calleigh in it with him.

And frequently during the months following his shooting, Eric would catch Calleigh regarding him with a flicker of something more than friendly concern in her expression. It seemed as though his brush with death -- and the prospect of losing him forever -- also caused her step back and really think about what he meant to her. He could tell from the look in her fathomless green eyes that she hadn't quite figured out the answer to that question yet, but that it had definitely occurred to her that he could be more to her than just a loyal colleague and good friend.

If he'd had any doubt that he was beginning to fall for his beautiful partner, the unmistakable turning point occurred on that momentous day when they had their first kiss ...

* * *

For such an eventful day, it had actually started out ordinarily enough. The CSI team had been investigating a couple of murders associated with Hank and Laurie Atherton, who were currently embroiled in what the tabloids had dubbed "Star Island's nastiest divorce." In fact, the couple's antics were so far-fetched that they would've been somewhat amusing, had it not been for the fact that dead bodies seemed to keep popping up around them. But, around mid-morning, Eric's day seemed to take a turn for the worse. He was at the CSI Reception Desk handling some administrative business when he heard an unfamiliar female voice greeting him from behind. He turned around to see an attractive brunette staring at him with a slight sneer on her face, raising her eyebrows as though he should know who she was. Her face, though pretty enough, didn't ring any bells; although, in the far recesses of his mind, he felt like they might have met before, maybe in passing. Or perhaps she was someone he'd hooked up with after over-indulging a bit at the bar in one of the many night-spots that he'd loved to frequent up until a few months ago. But when she began shrilly demanding to know where her "check" was, Eric became completely flummoxed.

Thankfully, Calleigh came to his rescue, as always. She pulled Eric aside and gently informed him that the strange woman, who was now glaring at him with barely-repressed irritation, had sued him after he'd tried to help her get out of what he'd thought was a dangerous situation, which had turned out to be nothing more than a con. Apparently, his inability to remember her made her yet another casualty of the memory loss caused by his recent brain injury. Nonetheless, with her characteristic finesse and poise, Calleigh managed to placate the other woman and send her on her way in a matter of seconds. Eric had no idea just how Calleigh had worked that miracle, since she'd good-naturedly shooed him away to the lab while she took care of the awkward situation. But he found himself impressed for the umpteenth time by her quick-thinking and willingness to stand up for the people she cared about. Of course, the fact that she was defending _him_ on this particular occasion was merely the icing on the cake, making him feel all warm-and-fuzzy inside.

He didn't get to thank her for bailing him out until later that afternoon, when they met in the Fingerprint Lab to compare a shoe-print from one of the murder scenes with a print from one of their primary suspect's sneakers.

"That dust lift you collected is _pristine_," Calleigh commented admiringly.

She clearly intended her statement to be nothing more than a sincere scientific observation, but it was exactly what Eric needed to hear, especially in light of his unsettling encounter earlier. In the four months since he'd left the hospital, he'd basically had to re-learn many aspects of his job, and doing so had been an arduous and frustratingly-slow undertaking, given the still-recovering state of his brain. Needless to say, the process -- and his frequent missteps along the way -- had deeply shaken his confidence. And he'd only just begun to feel like he was turning a corner when this morning's memory lapse had made him second-guess himself all over again. That is, until Calleigh's little compliment set things right once more. As he watched her examining the shoe-prints in question, Eric wondered at her uncanny sixth sense for knowing precisely what to say or do to put his mind at ease at any given moment.

"That's a match. We got him for killing our Lamborghini guy," she declared, with no small measure of satisfaction in her tone. Although he'd been matching fingerprints for years, after the day he'd been having, it felt like a huge victory, and Eric couldn't suppress a small flush of pride at her kudos. His heart filled with gratitude, affection, and a dash of something extra (which he'd no doubt delve into later), leaving him with the irrepressible need to share with her just how much her support meant to him.

"Calleigh, I wanted to thank you ... for taking care of that girl today," he said, dropping his eyes when she fixed him with her emerald gaze. He felt a bit like a high school boy asking his dream girl to the prom.

If she perceived the tumult of emotions churning inside of him, she revealed no hint of it. "It's no problem ... you would've done the same thing for me," she replied airily, seemingly oblivious to the subtext. As she gathered up her papers and readied herself to leave, Eric frantically searched his mind for something, anything, he could say to keep her in his presence long enough for him to verbalize the words that kept freezing on the tip of his tongue; the ones that would clarify that he was referring to much more than her saving his professional neck.

"Well, it's just that you've helped me out a lot this year," he haltingly persisted.

"Well, I appreciate you for appreciating me," Calleigh responded with a coy smile that made his palms sweat a little.

Instead of making a beeline straight for the door, as Eric expected, she reached out and tenderly cupped his jaw, causing the skin beneath her palm to erupt in tingles of delight. Before he could wrap his mind around what was happening, she drew his face down to hers and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. His pulse spiked immediately, the sound rushing to his ears in a loud _whoosh_, and his heart began to jackhammer so hard that he was sure she could see it bounding out of his chest. Calleigh's lips were as soft as rose petals, and right then and there, he decided that they were just about the sweetest things he'd ever had the pleasure of feeling against his face. When she leaned in close, her beguiling scent -- her signature vanilla fragrance, coupled this time with a subtle touch of something floral -- enveloped him, making him slightly dizzy with longing.

He **almost** turned his face the short distance required to bring his mouth into direct contact with hers. Just an inch or so to the right, and the recurring dreams of tasting her lips that had haunted him for years, would become reality. His mind screamed at him to _go for it_, to leave hesitation in the dust and to take what he wanted -- or rather, needed -- at this moment more than he needed his next breath.

But even before that thought could properly take shape, Calleigh was gone, leaving Eric grinning like a lovestruck teenager. Her small gesture of fondness was undoubtedly chaste and lasted little more than an instant, but his reaction to it was so intense that you'd think the two of them had made out in the lab. Every nerve ending in his body was electrified, thrumming and zipping as though he'd stepped on a live wire. With considerable effort, he tore his gaze away from her retreating form, willing himself to stop gaping at her like a drooling fan-boy who'd taken leave of his senses. He sucked in a deep breath and tried to bring his speeding heart under control, still half-wondering whether he'd imagined her affectionate peck, or whether his mind had played tricks on him. He was still recovering from a serious brain injury, after all. But the imprint of her lips on his cheek and the remnants of her uniquely-enchanting fragrance that hung in the air around him, served as reminders that what had transpired was, fortunately, all-too-real.

Obviously, the pressing questions now were what it meant and what to do about it. Calleigh was too observant _not_ to have picked up on the effect that her kiss had had on Delko ... if nothing else, the hitch in his breath had been a dead giveaway. But when she'd drawn back from him afterward, her expression had been unreadable. He couldn't tell whether she'd also felt the spark between them, or whether it had merely been another one-sided moment that had left him shaken-and-stirred, but her, apparently unmoved. He'd give anything for a sure sign -- some chink in her impenetrable professional armor -- to indicate that she wouldn't run scared or pull her weapon on him if he suggested taking their platonic relationship to the next level.

Before Eric could ponder these issues further, the door to the lab opened, and in walked Natalia.

"What was that all about?" she queried inquisitively.

He shook his head slightly, trying to clear the sensual fog that had settled over it in the wake of his encounter with Calleigh. "Nothing," he replied, a little too quickly. Natalia looked unconvinced, but elected not to probe further.

She handed Eric a court document related to the murder case that he was currently working on, effectively breaking whatever was left of the spell that he'd been under a few minutes ago.

_"Back to reality,"_ he thought ruefully, sighing inwardly. But despite the fact that his roller-coaster-ride of a day had just taken another downturn, he found himself strangely comforted by his innate certainty that Calleigh's recent kiss was the first of many that he'd one day share with her. He didn't yet know exactly how it would all unfold; just that it was definitely in the cards. If only he knew then how right he'd turn out to be.


	5. Chapter 5: Sizzle

**Chapter 5 - Sizzle**

The next week or so had passed as though Calleigh's innocent kiss in the lab had never happened. Naturally, she hadn't brought it up, and Eric hadn't been about to do so, lest he be accused of reading too much into it. Knowing her as he did, he was sure that she'd managed to convince herself that the kiss had been nothing more than a friendly little smooch between colleagues. Of course, he was certain that, deep down, she was well aware that there was much more to it than that. But that was Calleigh for you ... no one could ever describe her as wearing her heart on her sleeve, that was for sure. He'd just about resigned himself to her seeming insistence on ignoring the attraction between them, when she did something that turned his world on its head all over again ...

On the day in question, the CSI team was investigating an apparent arson that had caused the death of Brett Morrison and almost killed his fiancée, Claire Gibbs. The home that the engaged couple had shared had been almost completely destroyed by the flames, and because of residual flares, the Miami-Dade Fire Dept. had declared the dwelling unsafe, consequently delaying the CSIs' ability to examine the crime scene itself. Nevertheless, Eric and Calleigh still headed out to the property in the hopes of uncovering useful information in the surrounding areas that could help them determine what, or who, had started the fire.

When they first arrived at the Morrison house, Eric couldn't help but notice that, by some strange coincidence, both he and Calleigh were wearing red. He wondered briefly what that might mean - if anything - and just as quickly put it out of his mind, silently berating himself for embarking on that train of thought for even a second. He'd never considered himself the type of guy who noticed the color of a lady's clothing, much less in relation to his own. Heck, until recently, the only attention he'd ever paid to an attractive woman's attire was to admire the curves that it accentuated, and, obviously, to determine the quickest way to get her apparel _off_ her. He'd always pooh-poohed that mumbo-jumbo about matching colors and compatibility as fodder for the Cosmo relationship "gurus." Yet here he was, entertaining those same notions the second Calleigh came into view, wearing that shiny, low cut - and, luckily for him, cleavage-revealing - red shirt. His beautiful, blonde co-worker was messing with his head without even trying; as usual, completely unconscious of the effect she had on him.

_Or was she?_ As they canvassed the yard around the Morrison residence for evidence, she kept giving him _that_ look when she thought his attention was elsewhere. It was the look he'd caught her giving him off-and-on ever since his first shooting: Her expression was one of feminine awareness mingled with a kernel of curiosity and a fair bit of hesitation. It was as though it were just occurring to her for the first time that she might be attracted to him; and she was resisting the idea. He suppressed a smile as he watched the internal war going on behind her eyes. He could totally relate to the feeling - except that his internal battle was between putting his feelings for Calleigh out there and risking rejection, or taking the safe route and keeping his emotions to himself, at least for the time being.

Oddly enough, it was Natalia who made him momentarily question his initial decision to pursue the latter route. She stopped by to check on the lab results for a fingerprint that Eric had found near the crime scene, and she began to good-naturedly rib him about Calleigh's growing "interest" in him since his shooting. Natalia had witnessed the tail-end of Calleigh's little peck, and Boa Vista had clearly picked up on something between her co-workers that had apparently escaped her blonde counterpart. Eric tried to deflect Natalia's nosy teasing, but the seed had been planted. After all, if she'd noticed the chemistry between himself and Calleigh, it couldn't just be the product of his wishful thinking. And come to think of it, Calleigh had been even more considerate of him than usual in the weeks since his injury. He couldn't quite put his finger on the difference, but lately, her attention had been more intimate, closer somehow. And just now, when he informed her that the Morrison residence had been cleared for the police investigators, she didn't miss a beat in proposing that they ride over there together. If fact, she gave him a knowing smile when she made her suggestion, clearly looking forward to his company. He was almost afraid to hope that Natalia's hunch might be right, since he feared being disappointed yet again if he misread Calleigh's subtle signals.

If Eric had had any doubt as to whether Calleigh felt the connection between them, it was quickly put to rest in light of what happened when they met at the arson site later that day. They were sifting through the debris from the fire when he heard her exclaim in pain. He hastened over to help, and saw that she'd accidentally stuck herself in the finger with a piece of broken glass while combing through a pile of rubble. A fairly large shard was now embedded deep in her digit. He figured that a cut like that must have hurt like the dickens, but, aside from her initial surprise, she seemed completely unfazed. Indeed, she was actually poking fun at herself for looking before she leaped, and he again found himself admiring her gumption.

With the utmost care, he gently took her hand in his, trying not to notice how perfect it felt nestled there. Then he slowly removed the offending splinter, intently observing her all the while for any signs of pain. But her expression was definitely not one of discomfort. Rather, he witnessed a mesmerizing change come over her gorgeous face as she _really_ looked at him - not as a friend or a colleague, but as a man and a sexual being - seemingly for the first time. Her bewitching jade eyes darkened with desire, glinting like the most precious emerald gems he'd ever seen. As they met his chocolate-brown orbs in an impassioned gaze, he felt like he was drowning, and yet, the last thing he wanted to do was to come up for air.

"Eric," she whispered. She spoke no other words, nor were any needed, as that single pronouncement conveyed the intensity of her feelings for him.

When his name rolled off her tongue, the world around them seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of them suspended in time and space. The ambient din faded into the background, save for a pronounced sizzling noise that penetrated Eric's consciousness. Though his rational mind knew that the source of the sound was most likely a few straggling embers from the fire, he couldn't help but think that it was a fitting parallel to what was happening between himself and Calleigh at this very moment. An overwhelming magnetism hung in the air between them, stealing his breath and turning his brain into a useless puddle of lust-addled goo.

Frantic thoughts bombarded Eric's mind as Calleigh continued to stare at him with equal parts yearning and expectancy, for what must have been only a couple of seconds, but which seemed like hours. On one hand, he had the almost unquenchable urge to kiss her, to suckle at the soft lips that beckoned to everything male within him. And if the look in her eyes was any indication, she wouldn't have refused him. On the other hand, he felt like he should say something, _anything_, in response to her needful utterance of his name. He **almost **did just that, wanting to let her know that he felt it too - that indefinable "something" that crackled between them like an electrical charge.

But despite the haphazard commands that Eric's mind was rapidly barking at him, every muscle in his body felt utterly paralyzed. He couldn't move to save his life, his tongue felt like it was stuck to the roof of his mouth, and his vocal cords mutinied, becoming completely unresponsive to his need to speak. And in that split-second of stasis, his nagging self-doubt made a swift comeback, fast on the heels of his romantic notions. Suddenly, he began to psych himself out with all of the reasons that he should hold his peace. He pointedly reminded himself that he and Calleigh were far from alone. They were surrounded by firemen, rescue crew, and God knows how many other random strangers connected to the arson investigation. As receptive as she looked right now when she was caught up in the moment, he had a sinking feeling that she wouldn't be at all amused if they were caught kissing or overheard whispering sweet-nothings to each other at a crime scene.

And as much as he hated to think about it, there was the issue of Jake Berkeley, the cop-turned-undercover agent Calleigh had dated when they'd been at the police academy together. As far as Eric knew, Calleigh and Jake were, thankfully, not seeing each other yet. But yesterday, Eric had heard some murmuring around the office that Jake was interested in picking up where he and Calleigh had left off, and, worse still, that Berkeley's advances weren't exactly unwelcome. Eric had been involved in a couple of "love"-triangles back in his casual dating heyday, and while he hadn't found them particularly enjoyable, he'd never felt crushed if the lady concerned had chosen the other guy, or the relationship in question had eventually fizzled out on its own. But Calleigh was different, and his feelings for her were far beyond casual. So, in all honesty, he was more than a little leery of getting involved in a tug-of-war that he stood a good chance of losing. If she opted to revisit her relationship with Jake instead of exploring a new one with Eric, it wouldn't be so easy for Eric to just brush himself off and move onto the next girl. Replaying this foreboding outcome in his head stole the last of his nerve, and he dropped his eyes from hers, deciding to keep his feelings to himself.

In lieu of the passionate declaration that had congealed in his throat, he steered the conversation back to the case at hand, pointing out that there was no smoke stain on the sliver of glass that he'd pulled from Calleigh's finger. She could sense his withdrawal and her eyes searched his face for an instant, trying to discern the reason behind it. But she evidently thought better of pursuing that subject, and allowed him to lead their discussion back into safer waters. She too, seemed to realize that their moment had passed.

"Your accident might have just turned into our biggest lead," he concluded. As he said the words, he secretly hoped that they'd turn out to be as true of his relationship with Calleigh as they were about their investigation.

In hindsight, Eric's statement turned out to be very prophetic, in more ways than one.


	6. Chapter 6: Matrimony & Parenthood

**Chapter 6 - Matrimony & Parenthood**

As Eric ruminates over his life before and after Calleigh, he's truly amazed by what a profound effect she's had on his maturation and development, not just as a CSI, but also, and more importantly, as a man. Case in point was the change in his attitude towards marriage and children. Before he'd begun to develop feelings for Calleigh, the common thread that had run through all of his romantic relationships with the fairer sex had been a lack of attachment, of permanence. For as long as he could remember, he'd enjoyed women, and while he'd always treated them with respect and courtesy (as his mother had taught him to), he'd deliberately kept his intimate liaisons with them on the lighter side. He'd found the prospect of being accountable to a woman -- of being somehow responsible for her happiness -- somewhat frightening, to be quite honest.

And if that hadn't been scary enough, the thought of fathering the children that could eventually result from a committed union, had downright petrified him. It wasn't that he'd disliked children; far from it, actually. He'd absolutely adored his older sisters' kids, and he'd found children in general quite entertaining to be around, as long as he could give them back to mom and dad at the end of the day. On the other hand, having his own child would be a long-term deal, and the accompanying responsibility wouldn't be something he could just walk away from, as he'd tended to do when his amorous involvements had run their course. If anything, the (thankfully, unfounded) pregnancy scare that had come out of his brief dalliance with Natalia had only served to underscore that, at the time, he'd been nowhere near up to the task of fatherhood. Consequently, he'd tried to steer very clear of anything that could lead to a premature trip down the aisle, or visit from the proverbial stork.

With the exception of the disaster that had been Gloria (a.k.a., "Crazy"), the women he'd dated before Calleigh had, for the most part, been on the same page as he had on the marriage/kids front. Like him, they'd been ready and eager to have a good time for as long as the thrill lasted, but just as willing to walk away without strings attached once the novelty had worn off. And until his game-changing encounter with a bullet, that footloose-and-fancy-free lifestyle had suited him just fine.

Shortly after Eric had joined the MDPD's CSI Unit, his mother had started dropping some not-so-subtle hints about her desire for grandchildren, courtesy of her only son. In her view, Eric's professional life was finally in order, and so the next logical step was for him to find himself a wife and produce a gaggle of kids for her to dote on. He'd tried to brush aside her well-intentioned maternal prying, claiming that he was too busy with his career, and that he hadn't yet found "Ms. Right," the woman who'd make him want to settle down and concentrate on raising a family of his own. And, in reality, that had been true, until he'd started falling for Calleigh. He'd never forget the day when this paradigm-shift really hit home -- the day they talked about having kids for the first time.

They were collecting evidence at the lavish mansion of wealthy couple Dennis and Kate Lambert in connection with the homicide of Vanessa Water, who'd served as one of the household's two nannies. Specifically, Eric and Calleigh were searching the bedroom of Jonah Lambert -- the Lamberts' teenage son and a budding scuba diving enthusiast -- for signs of the ceramic knife that had been used to stab Vanessa. As Eric was digging through a box of video games, his partner lobbed that all-important question at him, seemingly out of left field ...

"Can you imagine raising a family without any help ... I mean, you know, given the hours we work?" she asked.

Eric froze for a split-second, wondering if she'd meant to say what he thought he'd heard. The way she'd phrased her query, it had almost sounded like she was picturing the two of them having kids, _together_. Before the butterflies in his stomach could start doing a happy-dance, he gave himself a mental kick in the pants, reminding himself that she was obviously talking about each of them having children _in theory_ ... someday ... separately ... most likely with other people.

Without thinking, he answered off-the-cuff, "Yeah, I could, definitely." Apparently, his ability to self-censor had gone to hell in a hand-basket, as it often did in Calleigh's presence.

"Really?" she rejoined, with genuine surprise in her voice. She turned his way and threw him an inquisitive glance, as though she were appreciating him in a whole new light.

"Yeah, why, you don't think I'd be a good dad?" He was anxious to know whether she'd ever thought about him in this role.

"No, I think you'd be a great dad," she countered without hesitation. Her response caused yet another outbreak of elated goosebumps all over his body, which was mercifully concealed by his suit. "I just never heard you mention having children before," she explained.

"Yeah, well, maybe when I find ... the _right girl_," he said meaningfully. As he uttered the words, his glance darted across the room towards her, seeking to gauge her reaction. Surely, she must have caught onto the innuendo in his comment. He could have sworn he heard a slight hitch in her breath, but unfortunately, her back was to him so he couldn't read her expression. Not that he objected to the rear-view, mind you. In fact, her enticingly-curvy silhouette -- which was accentuated by her figure-hugging, all-black outfit -- was a visual treat, to say the least. It was just that at this particular moment, he would have traded it in a heartbeat for a glimpse of her face and the fascinating green eyes that were the windows to her innermost emotions. Then he would've known for sure whether her thoughts mirrored his, or whether it'd just been his imagination acting up again.

Eric **almost **let slip the thought that was at the forefront of his mind: _"Perhaps I've already found the right girl, and she's standing right in front of me." _As he continued to search the room, he envisaged Calleigh's reaction if he'd actually had the nerve to make this revelation out loud. His fantasies notwithstanding, he was pretty sure that she wouldn't have fallen into his oh-so-willing arms. For one, on the surface, it seemed like her relationship with Jake was over in the wake of Stetler's "no fraternization" policy, but Eric wasn't so sure. And besides, whether she and Jake were on or off, it was clear that she wasn't completely over her involvement with the detective. In any event, there remained the fact that she and Eric were co-workers, which was even more of a concern now that Stetler was on the warpath. The personal and professional fallout for Calleigh from IAB's new-found policy had been bad enough when Jake had been the source, and he was a non-CSI. The way Eric saw it, there was no way on God's green earth that she'd risk anything but a strictly platonic relationship with him, since they were not only part of the same team, but were also partnered up with each other on cases quite often. There was just no getting around that.

So Eric stayed silent and continued to rummage around under Jonah's bed for signs of the scuba-diving kit that might contain the murder weapon. A second later, he found it, thus pulling the CSIs' mutual attention back to the case at hand, and bringing an end to their brief contemplation of parenthood.

* * *

Part two of Eric's glimpse into what he hoped would be his future with Calleigh occurred a few months later, when they were investigating the murder of Susan Alston, the bride-to-be of baseball star Greg Tanner, at the couple's wedding ceremony. This case was a real eye-opener for Delko, in more ways than one. Eric and Calleigh's investigation took them to the Gentleman's Club where Greg's bachelor party had taken place the night before the wedding; an experience that made it clear just how much Eric's priorities had shifted since he'd started developing feelings for his favorite Southern Belle. In the past, he would've found a club full of attractive women in varying states of undress to be a significant distraction, especially when some of the talent were making no secret of their interest in giving him a private dance. But the whole strip club scene held much less appeal for the man he'd become since figuring out what -- or rather, who -- was really important to him. Quite frankly, in his opinion, the most entertaining part of the investigative duo's visit to The Pole was witnessing the fetching blush that came over Calleigh's face when Kelly Chapman, one of the dancers, whispered a naughty suggestion in the female CSI's ear after they'd finished questioning the brunette about the previous evening.

But the truly revealing event didn't come until later that day, when Calleigh and Eric visited the wedding venue to calculate the trajectory of the bullet in question and to pinpoint the location of the intended homicide victim. In order to figure out why Susan had been shot instead, the CSIs had to re-enact the position of the bride at the ceremony, with Calleigh playing the role of Susan since they had similar statures. With an adorably sheepish look on her lovely face, Calleigh donned the bridal veil and placed herself where Susan had been standing when she'd been killed.

Eric took one look at Calleigh, and immediately felt like he'd been struck by a huge bolt of lightning that had knocked all the wind out of him. For an instant, his heart literally stopped and he stood stock-still, unable to move, breathe or form a coherent thought as his eyes drank in the vision before him. As fate would have it, she was clad head to toe in an all-white outfit, and although it consisted of a blouse and pants rather than a dress, Eric couldn't have imagined a more beautiful bride. The bright sun behind her sparkled off her luminous locks and reflected off her clothing, surrounding her with an angelic glow. She was, in a word, perfect, and as he continued to stare unabashedly at his gorgeous colleague, he got the deep-seated impression that he was looking directly into posterity. And what he saw brought him an inherent sense of contentment and caused his lips to tilt upward into the biggest of grins. The stunning lady in front of him might not know it yet, but one day, she'd be his wife; of that, he was now virtually certain.

As though she could tell the direction of his thoughts, she gave Eric a knowing smile and allowed herself to bask in his obvious adoration for a few seconds. But then, all too soon, close-to-the-vest Calleigh was back in full force and she dropped her eyes embarrassedly, breaking the loaded moment between them.

"If you tell anyone I did this, I'll kill you," she warned with a wry smile, her face coloring slightly under his intense gaze.

Eric was **almost** tempted to reassure her that she had no reason to be bashful, given how exquisite she looked, but then, he thought better of it. If he said those words, he'd doubtless clue her into what was really on his mind: That he was picturing himself standing across the aisle from her, and wishing that he would one day be the man to whom she would say "I do." But if he knew Calleigh, she was nowhere near ready to hear about that scenario yet. If anything, it would send his intimacy-shy partner running for the hills, jeopardizing not only any chance for his romantic daydreams to come true, but also their longstanding friendship. And nothing was worth that.

So instead, he responded to her lighthearted threat with some witty banter of his own, assuring her that she was only stuck wearing the veil because she was the same height as the late bride. They both knew that Calleigh's reenactment had given rise to a cherished moment that would forever live on among their fondest memories, but they were both equally aware that it was neither the time nor the place to explore the possibilities that it brought up. As it turned out, that would have to wait until much later.


	7. Chapter 7: Rescued

**Chapter 7 - Rescued**

Eric would always remember as a major turning point in his life, the horrific twenty-four hours that Calleigh had been abducted by Seth McAdams and his sidekick Tommy. It was the first time since Delko's shooting that he'd faced the real prospect of losing her, and that had caused him to realize just how deep his feelings for her had grown. Over the years, the CSI team had become like family, so anytime one of them was in trouble, all of them were affected, and they'd leave no stone unturned until they'd helped their distressed colleague and brought the perpetrators to justice. But with Calleigh, it'd been far different, and far more gut-wrenching. When Eric had first figured out that she'd been kidnapped, a stone-cold sense of dread and panic had washed over him like an avalanche, turning his blood into an icy syrup that struggled to flow through his veins and sending his stomach plummeting to the floor like a heavy lump of lead. A litany of worst-case scenarios had raced through his mind at blinding speed, practically driving him to the limits of his sanity. For an instant, he'd pictured the desolate existence that his life would be without her, and he'd felt as though someone had given him a ferocious stab to the chest and twisted the knife, sending shards of agonizing pain shooting out to his extremities.

It was at that moment that Eric had realized that he'd fallen in love with the captivating firearms expert. If he were honest with himself, the process had started when he'd awoken in the hospital after his shooting to find her sitting beside his bed, her face etched with concern and her eyes filled with something far beyond friendly affection. His gunshot wound to the head may have temporarily muddled his brain in some respects; but, in other ways, his brush with death had made him see certain aspects of his life more clearly than he ever had before, exposing them in bold relief like the images from one of his microscopes. And one of those pivotal revelations had been that he'd spent years drifting aimlessly from one shallow relationship to another, when the woman who completed him had been right in front of him all along. Calleigh possessed the perfect combination of all the qualities he'd admired, but had never realized he needed until recently: She was deeply compassionate (but tough-as-nails when she needed to be), smart as a whip, funny, effortlessly beautiful, sexy as all get-out, strong, and - fortunately for him - his biggest supporter. In the past, he'd shied away from using what he'd sardonically called the "L-word" because he'd believed that feeling it for, or saying it to, any woman outside of family almost always led to a negative outcome. After all, among his former circle of club-hopping peers, he'd only seen the word carelessly tossed around and misused as a manipulative tool (by both sexes), ultimately leaving one or both parties feeling deceived. Plus, more importantly, it'd boiled down to the simple fact that, before Calleigh, no woman had ever made him feel anything remotely close to falling in love. But with his blonde wonder of a partner, this emotion had come as freely and naturally to him as breathing, untarnished by distrust or misgivings. And the thought of having her ripped from his future just when he'd figured out how much she really meant to him, had sent his mind reeling.

Eric's epiphany about his feelings for Calleigh had been followed by an intense anger directed against both her abductors and Dan "Coop" Cooper, the former A/V lab tech who'd been fired after he'd been caught committing credit card fraud by using Tim Speedle's credit card years after Speed's death. Apparently, Coop had been bitter about his dismissal from CSI and, in a bid to get back at his ex-supervisor for forcing him to turn himself in for his crime, he'd started a website called Solve a Crime with Calleigh, on which he'd published her real cell phone number. Coop's rash and vindictive act had enabled McAdams to lure Calleigh to the place where he and his crony had subdued her with chloroform and carried her off. Before Eric's rational mind could stop him, he'd stormed into Coop's apartment, pummeled the would-be blogger, and threatened to kill him if anything happened to her. And a part of Delko - the part he'd normally managed to keep under control most of the time with logic and professionalism - had really meant it. In truth, there had really been no telling what Eric would've done if Coop's conduct had led to Calleigh's death. With her gone, Delko would've considered himself a man with very little to lose by letting his grief and rage get the better of him. Thankfully, it hadn't come to that.

Eric hadn't slept, eaten, or quite frankly, stood still since the moment he'd determined that Calleigh had been snatched. His well-being had ceased to be of the slightest importance to him while she'd been in the clutches of the scumbags who'd abducted her and tried to force her to cover up their criminal activities. Besides, staying in constant motion had meant no quiet time to be alone with his thoughts, to give the niggling sense of terror an opportunity to overwhelm his consciousness.

Thanks to a combination of Calleigh's grace under tremendous pressure and the team's dedicated investigative work, they'd been able to spot the clues that she'd shrewdly left behind in order to ascertain the abductors' next moves. And they'd finally succeeded in accosting McAdams - with Calleigh in tow, at gunpoint - at Club Descent, where he'd shown up to rob the anticipated participants in an illegal high-stakes poker game, but had instead been met by the CSIs.

When Calleigh had walked into the dim venue alive, Eric had felt like he'd been given his life back. A staggering sense of relief had swept over him, causing his heart to stutter jubilantly in his chest. Once they'd disarmed and restrained McAdams, Calleigh had sagged limply into Eric's arms like a rag-doll, evoking a fierce feeling of protectiveness in him. He'd resolved right then and there that, from that day forward, he'd do anything to safeguard her from harm, even if it meant putting his own life on the line. Indeed, he'd do so without a second thought, and not merely as a cop or her fellow-CSI, but infinitely more so as the man who loved her, the man who couldn't envision a future without her front and center in it.

* * *

Now, as they were walking back to their respective police vehicles after their harrowing day, Eric studied Calleigh worriedly, wanting to make sure that she was okay, or at least as fine as could be expected under the circumstances. She looked somewhat shell-shocked, but in typical fashion, she was trying valiantly to mask her angst behind a veil of unflappability. Nonetheless, as in-tune to her as he always was, Eric could spot the lingering traces of fear in her eyes from a mile away. Unlike her, he made no attempt to hide his concern when he asked for what felt like the tenth time in as many minutes whether she was okay. And, just as she'd done all the previous times he'd inquired, she pointedly replied that she was fine. His keen gaze bored into her, letting her know without words that he could see through her steely façade to the shaken woman who lay beneath it. She could tell that she wasn't fooling him in the least, and predictably, her initial response was to try to shut him out and escape the piercing whiskey-colored irises that forced her to think about what had just happened.

"Hey, you don't have to go home alone," he assured her as she made to unlock the door of her Hummer.

"Eric, I'm fine ... I really am, I promise ... but thank you," she said resolutely, attempting to dismiss his unease.

"I'm not," he blurted out. Those two little words conveyed a wealth of profound emotions that had been aching to burst forth for some time. "I don't know what I would've done if something would've happened to you today," he continued. The agonized expression that flitted across his face indicated how much that outcome would've torn him apart, and for reasons much more significant than just losing a co-worker, or even a good friend.

At Eric's poignant admission, Calleigh froze in place for a split-second, considering the obvious significance of his statement, and then she turned back towards him. As she observed his pained countenance, something inside her finally seemed to "click," as though she were recognizing for the first time that he was in love with her. With that perception, the walls behind her eyes seemed to crumble and she surrendered to his desire to take care of her, needing it as much as he needed to do it.

"Okay," she conceded simply, prompting the first smile she'd seen on him all day to tug at his lips.

The drive to Calleigh's place was largely a quiet one, since she seemed lost in her own thoughts, and Eric believed it best not to pry, figuring that she'd open up about her ordeal when she was ready. Pushing her to talk about it prematurely would just cause her to withdraw from him, and that was the last thing he wanted. Despite her staunchest efforts to hide her discomfort, he did, however, spot her flinching briefly when the seatbelt brushed against her torso as she removed it just before alighting from his SUV.

"Are you alright, Cal?" he asked, as an anxious crease formed in his forehead.

"Oh, I'm alright," she replied with feigned nonchalance. "McAdams gave me a hard kick in the side when I wouldn't ..." She paused and shook what was clearly a very traumatic recollection, from her mind. "Left me with a nasty bruise on my left side. But the paramedics checked it out, and thankfully nothing's broken. I'll just be a bit sore for a few days, is all. Nothing for you to worry about." She was trying her hardest to convince him that she was just peachy, but he noticed that she was still heavily favoring the uninjured side of her body.

Eric waited for her to elaborate, hoping that she might finally be ready to confide in him about the torment that she'd survived. But, unsurprisingly, she changed the subject instead, inviting him in for coffee as a thank-you for driving her home.

Coffee soon turned into dinner and a movie. Although Calleigh would never have admitted it aloud, Eric could tell that she didn't want to be alone. So, after shushing her half-hearted protests, he whipped up a simple meal while she took a shower, and he even cajoled her into consuming a passable amount of food, despite her claims of having no appetite. Her shower seemed to have improved her frame of mind, and as they ate, she was markedly more talkative than she'd been since McAdams had been apprehended. Still, she limited their conversation to relatively safe topics, unrelated to her abduction. The closest they came to touching on that subject was discussing the Kathleen Newberry murder investigation, which, as it turned out, was technically an unrelated case since Ron Saris hadn't been behind Calleigh's kidnapping. In fact, the stoic blonde seemed doggedly focused on avoiding any discussion of the dreadful events that she'd recently endured, and Eric contented himself with being there for her on her terms.

After dinner, they watched a DVD; some comedy film that they'd seen at least three times before, nevertheless enjoying the mindless diversion that it provided from the horrific reality that she'd suffered several hours earlier. In the blink of an eye, it seemed, the eleven o'clock news was on TV, and Calleigh - bless her adorable heart - was trying her darndest to stifle a yawn. Eric chuckled softly when he caught her fighting to keep her eyes open.

"Tired?" It was more of an observation than a question.

"Exhausted," came her reply.

"Can't say I blame you ... you've been through a lot lately." She acknowledged his understanding with a subtle nod. His eyes darted towards the front door and then back to her, revealing the tug-of-war going on within him. This would normally have been the appropriate time for him to say goodnight and head home, but something in her expression called out to him and willed him to remain.

"I'll get you a pillow and blanket," she offered, answering the question in his eyes. Knowing Calleigh, this was the closest he'd come to getting an invitation from her to spend the night, albeit on her couch. She always kept her fears and insecurities so tightly under wraps that the chances of her confessing that she actually _needed_ him to stay with her, were practically nil.

"Sure, if you want me to stay," he said. As he expected, she gave him no verbal response, but answered instead by heading to her linen closet.

Having gotten no rest himself in well over a day, Eric fell into a deep, dreamless sleep almost as soon as he stretched out on the sofa. So profound was his slumber that he nearly missed the terror-stricken moan that ripped from Calleigh's throat in the wee hours of the morning. But the anguished noise pierced his subconscious, and he opened his eyes, only to hear the sound of muffled weeping that she was clearly, but unsuccessfully, trying to stifle. He immediately threw the blanket off, flipped on the table lamp, and hastily tugged his pants on over his boxers, wanting to rush to check on her. But before he could stand up to head to her bedroom, he heard her walking through the hallway, and a couple of seconds later, she stepped into the living room.

Her utterly forlorn look broke his heart. It was obvious from her red-rimmed emerald eyes and splotchy cheeks that she'd been crying, and her T-shirt and pajama pants were damp with sweat despite the chill from the air conditioner. Her glossy blond locks were mussed and tangled from tossing and turning fitfully in her sleep.

"Bad dream?" he murmured.

The last vestiges of fright from her nightmare had apparently stolen her voice, so she merely dropped her eyes, confirming his hunch.

"If you want to talk about it, I'm here to listen, Cal," he said soothingly, patting the empty spot beside him on the couch. A brief flash of hesitation crossed her face as she initially resisted the idea of letting someone else support her for a change. Truth be told, he expected nothing less from his partner - she wore her characteristic unruffled composure like a suit of armor; one that was exceedingly difficult to penetrate. But trying to fight her fears in isolation had plainly proven exhausting, and, in the end, that won out over her pride. She gave a sigh that was equal parts resignation and relief, revealing her decision to lean on him.

Calleigh's quivering lower lip frustrated her attempt to form words, so instead, she assented to Eric's suggestion by joining him on the sofa. He took her pale, clammy hand in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze, encouraging her to unburden herself to him.

In a quavering, barely audible voice, she haltingly began to speak. "I thought ... I thought they were going to k- ... kill me," was all she could manage before dissolving into ragged sobs. He draped a protective arm around her shoulders and drew her to his chest, letting her purge herself of her trauma through a river of tears. As she heaved against him, soaking his undershirt, he tenderly stroked her hair and whispered consolingly to her, reassuring her that it was okay to be afraid, that she'd be alright, and that he was there for her.

Several minutes later, a few sniffles were all that remained of Calleigh's crying jag. Eric knew that it had taken a lot for her open herself up to him the way she had just now; to give him a glimpse of the real flesh-and-blood woman behind her impassive exterior. And it gratified him to no end that she'd shared this secret part of herself with him. Eventually, she raised her head and met his eyes, looking more vulnerable than he'd ever seen her.

"Thank you," she said simply. There was no need for her to elaborate, as they both grasped the reasons for her gratitude. As she held his gaze, he felt as though he were looking directly into her soul; and he knew for a fact that he'd never seen anything more beautiful than Calleigh at this very moment.

Eric had a sudden, overwhelming urge to kiss her, a craving so intensely powerful that it prompted a shiver to run through his body. He **almost** gave into the impulse to capture her supple lips with his, wanting with everything that was in him to let her know how much he cherished her. But, with seemingly Herculean willpower, he restrained himself. He'd learned enough from the preliminary police reports to know that there had (thankfully) been no sexual assault, but he was also just as aware that Calleigh had nonetheless withstood a great deal of physical and psychological abuse at the hands of her captors. The last thing she probably needed was to feel like yet another man was trying to get his paws on her, even if it was someone she trusted implicitly. What she needed now was the comfort of a friend who didn't harbor any ulterior designs on her. So that's what Eric was for her, pure and simple.

He continued to coast his hand over her hair and back in calming strokes, taking care to avoid touching her bruise. She curled even further into the safe haven of his chest, and soon, her deep, even breathing signaled that she'd dozed off. He sat for a long while, regarding her cherubic face as she slept and contemplating the enormity of what he felt for the sleeping woman in his arms. Comforted by her closeness, in no time, he noticed his own eyelids becoming heavy. He knew he'd pay the price for sleeping while sitting upright, with bodily aches and pains when he woke up later that morning. As a matter of fact, his back was already protesting his somewhat awkward position on the couch. But even so, he wouldn't dream of moving in the slightest. After a horrendous thirty-six hours, Calleigh had finally found some peace, and he'd remain still or die trying rather than disturb her repose. Holding her like this felt incredibly right, and with that pleasant thought in mind, Eric leaned his head back contentedly against the sofa headrest, and before long, joined her in slumber.


	8. Chapter 8: Hesitation

**Chapter 8 - Hesitation**

In the months following Calleigh's kidnapping and rescue, she and Eric had grown even closer, and with each passing day, he'd fallen a little more in love with her. But one thing that the passage of time had _not_ done, was make her romantic feelings for him any clearer. It was obvious that, for some time now, she'd considered him a best friend and confidant whom she trusted unreservedly; and that trust had continued to deepen as they'd supported each other through the personal and work-related hazards that life had thrown their way. She'd gradually revealed more and more of herself to him; gifting him with little kernels of her inner being that she'd kept secret from everyone else. And he'd gladly accepted each and every one of those hidden gems, finding in them even more reasons for loving her as much as he did. But he still couldn't tell whether her affection - strong though it was - extended beyond friendship. In that respect, she persisted in playing her cards close to the vest, remaining as tight-lipped as ever, and leaving him struck _in limbo_ somewhere between cautious optimism, frustrating insecurity, and utter confusion.

Some days, it seemed as though making the transition from colleagues to coupledom would be an easy matter. Those were the days when Eric would catch Calleigh's emerald eyes drinking him in with palpable attraction; as though she were picturing him in her love life ... or the two of them in some naughty scenario, engaging in activities much too passionate for mere pals. On top of that, it appeared that Jake was finally out of the picture; and not a moment too soon, in Eric's view. Unlike some other aspects of her life, she hadn't discussed the circumstances of her and Jake's split in detail with Eric. But based on the little that she'd revealed to him and the general office gossip, he'd been able to piece together that Jake had decided to go back under cover, and that - fortunately for Eric - Calleigh had apparently seen that as a sign that it'd been time to make a clean break from the ATF detective.

Without Jake as an obstacle, the road ahead for Eric and Calleigh should have been a smooth one ... in an ideal world. But real life, as always, was seldom that easy. Rather than giving Eric any clear indication that his feelings for her were mutual, if anything, she'd been slightly cagier with her emotions since becoming a single woman again. That had never been clearer than when Eric had tried to broach the subject of his psychotherapy records with Calleigh following the homicide of Dr. Rachel Marsh, the therapist that Eric had been seeing to deal with the psychological fallout from his gunshot to the head. Months after the fact, he was still kicking himself over that conversation, or lack thereof, as it had turned out. The psychiatrist's daughter had been killed in her mother's home-office, followed shortly thereafter by Dr. Marsh herself. In connection with that investigation, Eric and Calleigh had pored over Dr. Marsh's therapy files, looking for clues that could lead them to the murderer. Notes containing the secret thoughts that Eric had revealed during his sessions with the deceased therapist had been among those files; notes that had detailed his change in perspective following his brush with death, his reflections about his future, and the fact that he envisioned Calleigh as an integral part of that future.

There had been no doubt in Eric's mind that Calleigh had read his file. Indeed, as they'd been reviewing Dr. Marsh's records, Eric was almost positive that he'd heard Calleigh's breath hitch when she'd read something on a page of notes that he'd figured must have concerned him. But he'd dropped the subject when she'd stonewalled his inquiry about what had prompted her reaction. And worse still, he'd lost his nerve and allowed to her to walk away from him when, later that day, he'd asked her point-blank whether she'd read his file. He'd been hoping to use that question as a segue into a talk that might have given him some idea as to whether she would return or reject his romantic notions. But she'd eluded his query with a non-responsive, non-committal acknowledgment that she and Eric made "a good team," and then he'd let her saunter away from him with a coy, "see you tomorrow." Calleigh had plainly been uncomfortable discussing Eric's psychotherapy records, or more precisely, the feelings for her that they'd contained, and she'd seemed grateful to make an escape without delving beneath the surface.

Needless to say, that encounter had squashed Eric's already fragile confidence and had started the vicious cycle of self-doubt all over again. Just when he'd begun to hope that she might be ready to explore something deeper between them, she'd withdrawn from him, setting them two steps back and making him re-think the wisdom of sharing his feelings with her. Then again, given her spotty track record on affairs of the heart, he couldn't really fault her for being a bit leery of getting into another romantic liaison so soon after the one with Jake had ended. Calleigh the ballistics expert may have been virtually fearless regarding her beloved firearms, but when it came to the prospect of a new romantic relationship with Eric, she was understandably gun-shy.

* * *

A few months after the Marsh murder investigation had wrapped, Fate handed Eric another chance to recapture that missed opportunity to take things with Calleigh to the next level. The CSI team was trying to determine how a young man with amnesia (ultimately found to be named Doug Benson) had ended up wondering the streets of Miami covered in blood from a mother, father and daughter. The case resonated deeply with Eric, since he knew what it was like to struggle with memory loss, having suffered from it after his shooting. He couldn't help but empathize with Doug, who, quite frankly, seemed more like a lost child than a cold-blooded criminal. Eric had been doing an admirable job of walking the fine line between his hunch regarding Doug's innocence, and following the evidence, until the CSI learned a bit of troubling news about the suspect. Doug's father had been murdered right in front of him when he was just eight years old, and now, he had no family left. Eric remembered how scary and isolating his own cognitive deficits had been after his head injury, and he knew that the main reason he'd been able to overcome it all had been due to the support of his family, colleagues, and especially Calleigh. He couldn't imagine what it must have been like for Doug to have to face such a daunting hurdle alone; and for some reason, that really bothered Delko.

Ever in tune to him, it didn't take long for Calleigh to notice that something was amiss. She and Eric were sitting on the sidewalk of the street where the cops had picked Doug up, waiting for detective Frank Tripp to join them so they could start their search for the red hat that the suspect had been spotted wearing at the murder scene.

Meeting his pained chocolate brown eyes with her concerned jade gaze, she ventured tentatively, "You doing okay?" Her knowing tone suggested that she already suspected the answer.

For a split-second, Eric considered deflecting her query and sweeping his unease under the carpet, but he just as quickly nixed the idea. Calleigh had always possessed such an uncanny knack for reading him like a wide-open book that attempting to hide anything from her was always an exercise in downright futility. Besides, her guileless, reassuring look drew him to her like a bee to honey, and made him want to confide in her.

"Nah, not really," he replied. It was hardly an expansive admission, but he already felt like the dark cloud over him was beginning to lift. "I just found out that Doug's all alone. He doesn't have a wife or family ..." Eric trailed off. There was no need for him to explain why this fact worried him so much, as Calleigh could tell that he was recalling the dark period in his own life when his mind had refused to cooperate with him.

Fixing him with a sincere, but slightly shy look, she assured him, "You know you're not Doug, right?"

"Yeah, I know," he answered automatically, grateful that he hadn't been in Doug's lonesome shoes back then. However, the rest of what Eric was dying to say wasn't quite so easy to push past the nervous lump in his throat. He wanted to tell Calleigh how much her unflagging support had meant to him during that time; to confess that it had been the catalyst that had tipped the scales from friendship to love from his vantage point. But then, he started reminding himself of all the times that she'd seemed troubled by the idea of herself and Eric dating. A couple of years back, she'd pretty much confirmed that she'd never go down that road with him, as opposed to Jake, because she and Delko were part of the same team at work. That hadn't changed, and since then, she hadn't made any concrete gestures signaling that she'd altered her mindset on the issue. If anything, her resolute attempts to avoid discussing the emotional disclosures in Dr. Marsh's notes seemed to underscore that Calleigh's apparent aversion to seeing Eric romantically was, sadly, just as strong as ever. Admittedly, she'd given him subtle hints to the contrary here-and-there, but he needed more than that before he stuck his neck out. There was simply too much at stake: If she didn't share his desire for an intimate relationship and turned him down, it would ruin not only their professional rapport, but also the close friendship between them that had been built over the course of several years.

Since the unmistakable sign that he longed for was apparently, not forthcoming, Eric reined in his burning desire to confess all, and simply added, "Your friendship means a lot to me, Calleigh." Labeling the depth of his emotions for her as mere friendship felt watered-down. It wasn't that he didn't value their mutual trust and affection, but the term felt like a bit of a cop-out, and an odd sense of defeat washed over him as it crossed his lips. He wished with every fiber of his being that he could say more, but he wasn't sure that she was ready to hear it.

Calleigh's eyes widened a little at his revelation. Though she was doubtless aware that she served as one of his closest confidantes, she seemed surprised that he'd actually admitted it out loud. The same woman who faced ruthless criminals head-on became slightly bashful under Eric's intense stare, which communicated the loaded subliminal messages beneath his words.

An endearing blush crept up her face as she responded, "I didn't know you felt that way."

She was determined not to make this easy for him, it seemed, and Eric chuckled wryly at her insistence on dodging the obvious. Before he could bite his tongue, he blurted out, "How could you not know that? You read my file." _There, he'd said it. Certainly, there could be no way for her to wriggle out of discussing this now._ But he'd underestimated his partner.

Calleigh paused for a beat, evidently trying to come up with a plausible evasive maneuver, and then countered with, "That was an unrelated case. It's important to me to respect your privacy." Her explanation hung in the air between them, sounding woefully feeble to them both, and it was plain as day that neither of them was buying it in the least.

A few charged seconds passed as Eric wrestled with himself as to how much he should say. For an instant, he **almost** threw caution to the wind, sorely tempted to give into his yearning to lay it all out on the table; and then let the chips fall where they may. In fact, the urge was so strong that he literally had to bite his lower lip to stop himself from confessing just how crazy he really was about her. Not helping his confused state was the fact that Calleigh was sitting in front of him, looking like she'd just stepped out of one of his fantasies. The blazing Florida sun was dancing over the golden highlights in her blond hair, a light breeze off Biscayne Bay whipping tendrils of it around her face. Her stint outdoors had lent her skin a warm, inviting glow, and he lost himself in her expectant gaze as his lovestruck brain scrambled to figure out what to do next. He felt a bit like a cartoon character with an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other: The former encouraging him to be completely honest about his emotions and assuring him that it would be for the best; and the latter filling his mind with fears and misgivings, warning him that spilling his guts would only blow up in his face. And, in the midst of this internal battle, he found himself as tongue-tied as a thirteen year-old on his first date.

But before Eric could make a move one way or the other, Tripp accosted the twosome, breaking the spell and steering the conversation back to the investigative task at hand. Beneath the transplanted Texan's gruff exterior lay a heart of gold that made him a treasured surrogate member of the CSI team, but at this precise moment, Delko silently cursed the detective's atrocious timing. Eric couldn't suppress an irritated sigh at having yet another opportunity snatched from his grasp, and he stole a glance at Calleigh, wanting to read her reaction to the inconvenient interruption. He might have just imagined it, but he could have sworn that he'd caught a glimpse of what looked a lot like disappointment skirting briefly across her face; as though she too, sensed that something monumental had been afoot before tough luck had intervened. By way of consolation, he told himself that it was probably a sign that this wasn't the right time for any passionate declarations; though, deep down, he knew better.

Besides, if Eric had had any doubts as to whether Calleigh was ready for him to put his heart out there on his sleeve, they were dispelled in no uncertain terms later that day. When he bumped into her back at CSI headquarters, he apologized for putting her on the spot earlier about what she'd seen in his former therapist's file. In response, she adopted her typical, impassive Duquesne-demeanor and tried to shrug off his _mea culpa_ with a blasé "forget it."

With a sudden burst of courage that struck out of the blue like an errant lightning bolt, Eric retorted, "What if I don't want to?" He wondered where his newfound tenacity had come from.

Calleigh rolled her eyes in obvious frustration. "Eric, I'm so confused. What _do_ you want? You are going to have to tell me, because until I actually hear you say the words, I don't even know if you believe it yourself. Do you know what I'm saying?" By the time he got around to murmuring his sheepish agreement, she'd walked away.

_Would Calleigh be a receptive sounding board for his feelings? Well now, he had his answer_.


	9. Chapter 9: Togetherness

_Author's Note: This chapter is the reason this fic is rated "T" as opposed to "K+/K." This is as close to racy as this story is going to get, and it's still strictly PG-13 (i.e., very tame). Hope you enjoy._ :-)

* * *

**Chapter 9 - Togetherness**

To refer to the first time Eric made love to Calleigh as "epic," would be to make _the_ understatement of the decade. He remembers every minute detail of the eventful period before, during and after that unforgettable initial encounter in high-def detail so vivid that it had previously been reserved only to his favorite ESPN-HD sporting events. After hemming-and-hawing for a while following the Doug Benson case, Eric had finally mustered up the guts to profess his feelings to his fetching partner. True, she'd been in the hospital and unconscious due to smoke inhalation, and he hadn't exactly uttered an all-out declaration of love. Rather, he'd spoken the words that had been in his heart when he'd sat beside her bed, contemplating her beautiful, serene form as she'd hovered precariously between life and death: That he couldn't imagine living his life without her. By fortunate happenstance, she'd heard his confession even in her comatose state, and thankfully, it had been enough. Since that time, they hadn't formally discussed the status of their relationship, but they'd both understood that it had changed from friendship into something much more.

How they'd managed to keep their hands off each other during the ensuing few weeks had been a miracle in itself. It certainly hadn't been for lack of desire on either of their parts. But Calleigh had been released from the hospital with strict instructions to avoid any cardiovascular activity, vigorous exercise or - ahem - "excitement" that could over-tax her healing lungs. So that had ruled out pretty much everything of a remotely sensual nature for what had seemed like eons. And by the time her doctors had cleared her for cardio, Eric had already been embroiled neck-deep in his immigration fiasco. The fledgling couple's first chance to enjoy each other intimately had had to wait until Eric's biological father had grown a conscience and helped his son avoid deportation to Cuba.

Eric would never forget the moment he emerged from the ICE Detention Center to see Calleigh waiting for him with open arms. After days of confinement and panic about his future, laying eyes on her was like experiencing sunshine and fresh air and love and energy and all the good things in life, wrapped up into one stunning, welcoming gift. So anxious was he to enfold himself in her warm embrace that his legs instinctively broke into a jog as he made his way to her. He eagerly reciprocated when her arms snaked avidly around his torso and pulled him into an affectionate hug, and he was suddenly struck by how perfectly her petite, curvy body fit against his much larger frame, as if she were tailor-made just for him. Truth be told, they fit together seamlessly on so many levels that it was almost spooky, but infinitely gratifying.

"You missed out!" she jubilantly announced as she greeted him. When they separated from their hug, she gave him one of her signature smiles, the ones that could light up a room while simultaneously making him weak in the knees. "I was gonna marry you but your _dad_ stepped in," she explained, her voice full of flirtation.

It was clear from her tone that she was just kidding around now that his immigration debacle was over, but Eric nonetheless delighted in the fact that she cared enough about him to consider taking such a major step to keep him on U.S. soil, and close to her. The gesture meant more to him than he could ever express. Not wanting to break the cheerful mood, he answered his radiant other-half with some witty repartee of his own, wisecracking that he might have found "somebody special" while he'd been locked up.

"Hey, why don't I take you back to my place and I'll make you a traditional American dinner, since you're new to our country," she quipped. To Eric, the very idea sounded like heaven. In all honesty, it wouldn't have mattered what was on the menu, as long as he was in her company.

But then he remembered that his life was still very much at risk because of Sharova's links to the Russian mob. Eric would've done anything to avoid putting Calleigh in harm's way, even if it required them to spend less time together. As agonizing as that would be, it would only be a short-term measure until the immediate danger had passed, and it would be well worth it if it meant that she'd be safe.

"Sounds good ... but danger has been following me everywhere I go ..." he cautioned. Before the words had even left his mouth, he knew that they wouldn't be enough to deter his tenacious partner.

She determinedly shook her head, dismissing what she perceived as unnecessary concern. Before he could open his mouth to argue, she rose up on her tiptoes and planted a sweet, succulent kiss on his lips, effectively silencing his protests. Quite frankly, her provocative peck pretty much derailed his entire train of thought, since the euphoric tingles running up and down his spine rendered any type of coherent mental process thoroughly futile. This was scarcely the first time that they'd kissed - they'd done their fair share of it after Calleigh had gotten out of the hospital - but they'd always had to restrain themselves for fear of sending her running for her inhaler. On this occasion, however, her elation and relief at being able to see and hold him again appeared to have swept away her previous reservations, and she poured herself wholeheartedly into the kiss. The exquisite sensation of her lips against his and her uniquely intoxicating fragrance were rapidly turning what was left of his brain into useless mush.

With no small measure of glee, Eric noticed that Calleigh seemed unconcerned about the steady flow of human traffic strolling by them. Before they'd begun seeing each other, she'd been notoriously private and uneasy with grand public displays of affection. So he couldn't resist giving himself a tiny pat-on-the-back, pleased to no end that dating him had apparently helped her overcome her PDA-shyness.

Yanking himself back to reality with considerable effort, Eric tried again to summon the voice of reason. "Calleigh, I'm serious ... I don't want anything to happen to you." His second attempt at a warning had a similar result, as she leaned in and treated him to another delectable kiss, shutting off the remaining alarm bells in his head.

"C'mon, I have the safest house in Miami. Do you know how many guns I have?" Well, there was no disagreeing with that; she hadn't earned the nickname "Bullet Girl" for nothing. He gave an amused chuckle, deciding to let himself be persuaded, at least for the time being. Honestly, on a day like today, he didn't have the heart or the inclination to refuse her, when all he wanted was for her to be next to him.

"You protected me ... I'll protect you," she concluded, putting an end to all further objections on his part (not that any were forthcoming). Confident that the matter was settled, Calleigh slipped her arm fondly around Eric's waist and he happily mirrored the act, allowing her to lead him to the garage where her SUV was parked.

"Speaking of which, how are you going to 'protect me' ..." - Eric underscored the term by making mock quotation marks with his fingers - "... when you're supposed to be taking it easy? Being my, ah, _body_-guard isn't exactly the best way to avoid an adrenaline rush." It was evident from the mischievous tilt to his lips that his emphasis on the word "body" had been deliberate. Clearly, the possible double-meaning of that particular task had not escaped him.

But his lovely girlfriend played it coy, blithely responding, "Oh, no worries on that front. Yesterday, the doctors gave me a clean bill of health, and I feel as good as new. I've been warned to stay away from wildfires and burning buildings 'cause of the smoke, but otherwise, I've been cleared to return to normal activities, no matter how much they up my heart rate."

She might as well have told him that they'd won the lotto. After weeks of being on his best behavior, Eric had been wondering how much longer he'd have the willpower to keep his libido in check. His gaze raked unabashedly over the curves he couldn't wait to get his hands on, his raised eyebrows and sly smile conveying exactly what he had in mind to get their pulses racing. Calleigh countered with a saucy smirk of her own, letting him know that she had absolutely no objections to the sensual direction of his thoughts. In fact, if the twinkle in her green eyes was anything to go by, she'd be an eager participant in whatever "cardiovascular activities" were on the horizon.

As the twosome made their way towards Calleigh's Hummer, her eyes darted to their surroundings as though to remind them both that they were far from alone. With that apparently in mind, she steered the conversation back to less risqué treats. "So, which one of my culinary masterpieces do you feel like having for dinner?"

Eric couldn't stifle a good-natured chuckle at her transparent - but cute - attempt to change the subject, at least temporarily. One of the many things he adored about her was her ability to switch from "kick-butt-gun-toting-not-to-be-messed-with" investigator to "demure Southern Belle" at the drop of a dime. As loath as he was to take a pause on their R-rated discussion, he respected her desire to resume their steamy chat when there were no people (and kids!) milling around close by. He gave a drawn-out, exaggerated sigh for dramatic effect, prompting an answering laugh from Calleigh as she observed - and no doubt, related to - his frustrated lust.

Giving her a huge grin that virtually covered his entire face, he replied, "Well, I know you mentioned a _traditional_ American dinner, but, honestly, I'm craving one of your down-home specialties. You always did make a mean seafood gumbo ..."

* * *

As it turned out, the promised dinner didn't come until much, much later, after Calleigh and Eric had worked up an appetite with the raciest form of "exercise" known to man. They'd barely entered her house before long-awaited, fiery kisses gave way to them practically ripping each others' clothes off, leaving a trail of discarded apparel between the front door and the bedroom. The recent deportation proceedings against the Cuban-American CSI had, thankfully, been resolved in his favor, but the prospect of a prolonged separation was still fresh in the couple's minds, lending a sense of urgency and relief to their initial amorous encounter. And of course, years of pent-up sexual tension before that made an unhurried pace downright impossible. Needless to say, the new lovers utterly and completely ravished each other, leaving them lying side-by-side on the bed like two boneless, panting blobs of ecstatic, sated jello. Eric could have sworn that he'd felt the earth move when they'd first joined together; seismology and scientific logic be damned.

After a brief respite (just long enough for him to regain control over his limp muscles), they embarked on a much more leisurely encore, taking the time to truly savor each other and express with their bodies what they couldn't yet say aloud. Calleigh far surpassed Eric's wildest dreams, and there had undoubtedly been many over the years (she was his living, breathing fantasy-girl, after all). She was a passionate, giving, gorgeous dream-come-true, and as he reveled in their closeness, he had to resist the repeated urge to pinch himself to make sure that he was actually doing this with the love of his life. He couldn't quite put it into words, but being with her like this felt like coming home; like he'd finally found that elusive "something" that he'd been seeking for ages. Before she'd walked into his life and unknowingly tossed his preconceived-notions out the window, he'd never believed that it was possible to find all that he needed in one woman. But per the old adage, things just had a way of falling into place when the moment, and the person, were right. Little wonder then, that he felt an amazing sense of completeness when they made love.

And as they lay together basking in the afterglow and the sheer joy of their togetherness, Eric realized that it could never be anything _but_ making love when it came to the blonde beauty in his arms. In the past, he'd always dismissed as fiction the conventional wisdom that making love was miles better than merely having sex, figuring that that was just what nervous parents told their hormonal teenage sons to keep them from sowing their wild oats. But now that he'd experienced first-hand the difference that actually being in love made to the whole equation, he had to concede that it wasn't just the product of cheesy romance novels and parental over-protectiveness. Thus far in his lifetime, he'd hooked-up with more women than he cared to count, but none of those encounters - even the more adventurous ones - had involved anything beyond physical stimulation. With Calleigh, the depth of his feelings for her seemed to heighten his senses, making the experience infinitely more exciting and enjoyable than he could ever have imagined. Thanks to her, he finally recognized what it meant to experience real intimacy, and not just bodily, but soul-deep, satisfaction.

Eric's musings prompted a surge of strong emotion for the lady he was now lucky enough to call his girlfriend, and he hugged her snugly to him, enjoying the feel of her silky hair on his chest. As he stroked Calleigh's attractively-tousled locks and listened to the pleasant sound of her breathing gradually returning to normal, he harked back to her lighthearted "marriage proposal" in front of the Immigration Detention Center. Momentarily ensconced in the delightful memory, he **almost** let slip the belated answer that popped into his mind: _"I would've said yes."_ He knew that she'd been half-joking when she'd offered, but to tell the truth, he would have jumped at the chance to make her his wife even without the threat of imminent deportation hanging over his head. In fact, he'd known for quite awhile that she was the woman he wanted beside him when he took that all-important walk down the aisle sometime in the not-too-distant future.

However, Eric kept this little tidbit to himself for now, since he could practically guarantee that Calleigh's timetable for wedded bliss was significantly slower than his. She'd only just become comfortable with the idea of them dating and showing affection in public, after all. She'd never been what you'd call an "open book" when it came to romantic relationships, and on top of that, her parents' dysfunctional union and bitter divorce had probably served to make her more than a little skeptical of the institution of marriage. Therefore, he suspected that she was in no hurry to jump the proverbial broom. Heck, if he knew Calleigh, bringing herself to admit that she loved him would be a major undertaking, even though it was written all over her face every time their eyes met. (Good thing he was a patient man where she was concerned). He was pretty sure that broaching the subject of matrimony right now would freak her out much more than the goriest murder scene she'd ever witnessed in her decade-long career as a CSI. And at the moment, she seemed so at peace - purring contentedly as he cradled her against him - that he didn't want to rock the boat. Better to leave well enough alone for now, and to just relish the luxury of simply having her near him.

As if on cue, Eric's stomach growled mightily, breaking his reverie and reminding him that it'd been awhile since he'd had a decent meal. (The meager fare at ICE hadn't exactly been scrumptious cuisine). Calleigh giggled adorably and gave his six-pack abs an indulgent squeeze.

"Sounds like _somebody's_ hungry ... I mean for _food_, Mr. One-Track-Mind!" she teased, playfully swatting his arm when she spotted the naughty glint in his eyes.

"Well, you know what they say ... man cannot live by hot, mind-blowing, knock-your-socks-off nookie alone," he bantered back, enjoying the way her face flamed at his suggestive humor.

She struggled in vain to keep a straight face as she suggested, "How 'bout I rustle us up that dinner I promised you earlier?" Nimbly dodging his wandering hands, which had suddenly become very touchy-feely again, she hopped out of bed and pulled on her robe before starting the short trek down the hall to the kitchen.

"Sounds like a plan to me," he replied with a smile, rousing himself to follow her lead.


	10. Chapter 10: Departures

_Author's Note: This isn't one of my "favorite" E/C missed-opportunity moments in the traditional sense, since I found it very difficult to watch. (Even now, it still makes me a little misty-eyed). However, it is a pivotal moment in their relationship, and thus, this story would've been incomplete without it. I apologize in advance for the angst._

* * *

**Chapter 10 - Departures**

Like all of the best times in life, Eric and Calleigh's blissful period of "new coupledom" had been all too fleeting. After years of wishing, wanting and waiting, they'd barely had a real chance to enjoy their fledgling romance when Murphy's Law had stepped in and turned everything on its head. Unfortunately, the "danger" that Eric had tried to warn her about after his release from ICE custody, had remained ever-present during the ensuing months. In fact, the fallout from his biological father's continuing criminal ties had ended up coming back to bite Delko in a big way, putting the younger man's life at risk and making a major dent in his intimate relationship with his fellow-CSI. Truth be told though, it hadn't been his participation in the events involving Sharova that had really hurt her, so much as Eric's stubborn insistence on keeping everything secret from her. If there was one thing that had always irked Calleigh to no end, it was feeling like she was being kept in the dark about something important, especially by a man she cared for. He could completely understand why she had major trust issues with the opposite sex, given the unfortunate outcomes of all her past relationships, from the first "man in her life" -- her unreliable, alcoholic father -- all the way through to Jake Berkeley, who'd upped and left her out of the blue as quickly as he'd resurfaced. One by one, in a cruel pattern of repetition, they'd hurt her, leaving her with what Eric had come to think of as the "Two D's": disappointment or disappearance.

In spite of being armed with this knowledge, Eric managed to accomplish not just one, but both, of the Two D's in a just a few short months, and in spectacularly idiotic fashion, too. First, there had been his failed, and misguided, attempt to single-handedly help Sharova break from the Russian mob and turn himself into police. What an unmitigated disaster that had turned out to be. And as secrets went, that one had been a doozy. Eric had sort of hinted to Calleigh that he was still in contact with his biological father, but he'd deliberately kept the nitty-gritty details from her. In Russian mafia circles, even a little inside information about their organization made you one of two things: (1) a member of the crime syndicate, or (2) a marked man. So Delko had figured that the less Calleigh knew about his plans, the safer she'd be. Besides, complete ignorance of his activities had meant that she could keep her hands totally clean of the whole sordid mess. She'd warned him about crossing "that line" in his bid to help Sharova; warned him that speaking to the older man outside of the formal police investigation could make Delko an accessory to the crimes that the former-CIA-spy-turned-"Russian"-mobster had been involved in. But Eric had shut her out, refusing to see her side of things because he'd felt like he owed his biological father for saving him from deportation. The wounded look that had briefly flashed across her face when Delko had irritably brushed aside her concern, had haunted him for weeks afterward. Of course, he'd never intended to cross over into "dirty cop" territory while helping Sharova, but Eric knew that he'd come pretty darn close to doing so. And although, at that point, he'd had little concern for his own career, he would've done just about anything to spare Calleigh any taint to her professional reputation, even if it meant withdrawing from her. When it came to her work, she treasured her integrity second only to (or maybe even more than) her precious collection of firearms.

Despite his noble intentions, all Eric's furtiveness had accomplished had been alienating Calleigh and causing her to shoot at him. (Although, to be fair, she hadn't known that it'd been him at the time; and the bullet she'd fired hadn't actually hit him). She'd always had such an incredible ability to read him that, in the weeks leading up to that fateful incident, she'd been able to tell that he'd been hiding things from her; and that had gradually chipped away at the trust that she'd so carefully placed in his hands. After his second shooting, she'd clearly been relieved that he'd been found alive, but palpable shadows of hurt and betrayal had been visible in the depths of her jade eyes. She'd been decidedly more wary and reserved around him, a situation that had only been made worse when the IAB had imposed its "no contact" order, forbidding them from communicating until the conclusion of its investigation into Eric's conduct. Even though Delko had ended up being cleared of any criminal wrongdoing, the damage had already been done. Once he and Calleigh had been allowed to speak to each other again, they'd cautiously tried to pick up their relationship where they'd left off, but things hadn't quite been the same between them.

* * *

To make matters even worse, instead of focusing on repairing Calleigh's fractured trust in him, Eric completely shattered the fragile remnants of it by unilaterally deciding to leave CSI, and suddenly springing it on her seemingly out of nowhere. In all honesty, he hadn't intended on her finding out about his decision so abruptly and after-the-fact. This was normally the type of thing that he would've confided in Calleigh about beforehand, since she'd always been willing to lend him a sympathetic ear when something was bothering him. But, as always, when his plans were pitted against Fate's cruel designs, he came out on the losing end.

In actuality, ever since his recovery from that second shooting, Eric hadn't quite felt like himself. He'd been restless, fighting a nagging sense of discontent that had constantly hung over his head like a dark cloud. The feeling had been particularly pronounced when he'd pondered his imminent return to work. At first, he'd thought that it'd just been a symptom of the shifted bullet in his brain from his first shooting. After all, it had taken him months of therapy to cope with the psychological and cognitive aftermath of that initial gunshot. However, after weeks of struggling along, feeling like he was underwater, he'd known that there was much more going on than just the side-effects of his physical injuries. As keenly observant of him as she always was, Calleigh had picked up on his discomfiture and had tried to reach out to him in her gentle, non-intrusive style, but he hadn't known what to say to her because he hadn't yet figured out how to put his emotions into words. He'd reckoned that he'd take some time to wrap his head around it all, and then enlist her help in coming up with a game plan for dealing with things once he was capable of talking coherently about them.

But the events of his momentous last day on the job put everything on fast-forward and brought all of his conflicting emotions to an agonizing head, leaving no room for careful consideration or a well-thought-out course of action. One minute, he was helping the team investigate the mysterious deaths of Ethan Durant and Lauren Beck, a young couple in their prime, from what was ultimately discovered to be botulism poisoning. And the next minute, Delko was in Horatio's office, announcing his resignation. The tipping point came when Eric put the engagement ring that Ethan had bought for Lauren on the young woman's lifeless finger in the morgue. Somehow, performing that small gesture broke something in the troubled CSI. The niggling turmoil that had been residing in the far recesses of his mind for weeks burst forth like an overfilled dam, flooding his entire being. Suddenly, the thought of returning to work the next day to face more of the same seemed stiflingly intolerable, and the pressing urge to make a permanent escape from the place that had been his professional home for so long, struck him like an angry fist. From that moment on, everything was a complete blur. Eric and Horatio spoke at length about his decision to leave the department, but Delko honestly couldn't tell you the details of their discussion. He felt like an oppressive fog was blanketing his brain, and one of the pounding headaches that had plagued him since his cranial injury was back with a vengeance, making lucid thoughts virtually impossible.

It was in this tumultuous state that Eric ran into Calleigh in the CSI locker room. He knew that she'd be anything but happy about his resignation from the MDPD, and even less so about the fact that he'd reached his decision without consulting her. Therefore, he'd been hoping to spend a few hours alone in order to come to terms with what had happened and put his scrambled thoughts into some semblance of order, before joining her later that evening for what was likely to be a very tense discussion.

As he'd made his way to the staff locker room, a plan had begun to take shape in his mind -- one that he'd hoped might make his upcoming chat with her a bit easier: He would take a long-overdue trip to Puerto Rico, his favorite vacation spot, and he'd ask her to go with him. The entire island was food for the soul, and whenever he visited, he found that whatever burdens had been weighing him down on arrival had always disappeared by the end of his stay. This type of catharsis was exactly what he needed now, and with Calleigh in tow, the stage would be set for him to get his life -- and their relationship -- back on track.

But, after the day he'd been having, Eric should have known better than to hope that Fate would cooperate with him. He was hastily clearing out his locker like a bat preparing to get out of hell, when he heard Calleigh's mellifluous southern twang greeting him from the other side of the locker bay.

"Eric?"

He paused for a beat, feeling a bit torn. On the one hand, there was nothing he enjoyed more than spending time in Calleigh's presence. But on the other hand, he knew that if he spoke to her now, he'd end up spilling his guts to her about his departure from CSI before he was ready. Even when they'd just been friends, her caring, quiet strength always did have a way of making him want to unburden his soul to her. However, in his current state of mind, he knew that he'd inevitably botch up the conversation he'd been hoping to have with her about his decision and why he'd reached it. Nonetheless, realizing that it was too late to "un-ring" the proverbial bell, he suppressed a sigh, and answered her.

"Hey, Calleigh. What are you still doing here?" It wasn't really all that late, but it was the only thing his addled mind could come up with to avoid an awkward silence.

"I just needed to catch up on some of my cases." The atmosphere in the room was pregnant with unspoken feelings that hung heavily in the air between them. After a few loaded seconds, Calleigh continued, "So, I figured out what you're doing."

"Can't wait to hear where this is going," he commented wryly, hoping to deflect her spot-on probing. But this time, she wouldn't let him dodge the inescapable.

"You're leaving CSI, aren't you?" It was clearly a rhetorical question.

As she'd done when he'd first met her almost twelve years before, she cut through his façade and went straight for the heart of the matter. Although he was hardly surprised -- given how perceptive she was, especially concerning him -- actually hearing her utter the words still made him feel like he'd been sucker-punched in the gut. Drawing a deep, fortifying breath, he walked around to join her on the other side of the lockers, a barrier that seemed oddly symbolic of the emotional chasm that had developed between them.

"You always were good at reading me," Eric gently acknowledged. Calleigh answered him with a sweet smile, one that -- he noticed with a twinge of sadness -- didn't reach her eyes.

"Let's not tell anybody else for now, 'cause I don't feel like answering lots of questions," he suggested. He had no doubt that she wouldn't breathe a word of this to anyone else, as he'd always been able to trust her with his "deepest, darkest." He made the request mostly as a means of alerting her to his distressed temperament.

"I wouldn't," she replied, exactly as he'd anticipated.

"So why are you going?" she queried, posing the million-dollar question he wasn't yet sure that even he had the answer to.

His chaotic thoughts swirled around in his mind like storm clouds, eluding his attempts to pin them down. So he had to settle for giving her the quintessential non-committal response, "A lot of reasons."

"Life's too short?" she ventured. She was closer to the truth than she realized.

"Yeah, basically," he confirmed.

"And what about you and me?" she asked. Her voice quivered slightly on the last word, putting a lump in his throat. The insistent throbbing in his head multiplied tenfold, now almost blinding in its intensity.

In the midst of his turmoil, it had never occurred to Eric that his one-sided choice to leave CSI might truly endanger his relationship with Calleigh. Now, he recognized that her question was the one he should have been asking himself all along; but he'd been so caught up in his confusing feelings that he'd overlooked the obvious. He frantically searched his muddled brain for the right words to tell her that he needed them to stay together more than he needed his next breath, and that he couldn't picture his future without her in it, whether or not he was a CSI. He wanted to reassure her that the only silver lining in all this misfortune was that they wouldn't be forced to hide their romance anymore, since he'd no longer be her co-worker. At this juncture, he didn't have a road map for where they would go from here, but the one thing he was sure of was that he wanted her by his side when he navigated through whatever life had in store for him.

Eric **almost** revealed these thoughts to her, but then he took one look at her shuttered gaze and her strained, mirthless smile, and the words died in his throat. It was clear that Calleigh had already answered her own question, and unfortunately, in the negative. He was losing her, and he could only stare helplessly at her as she slipped away from him before his very eyes, retreating behind the impervious wall of impassivity that she used to protect herself from pain.

"I guess CSI's not the only game in town," she quipped, but her tone was joyless.

For a split-second, he allowed himself to hope that she understood that his need to make a radical change applied only to his professional life. Against his better judgment, he determinedly ignored the little voice in his head that told him otherwise; warning him that she believed that his decision to walk away from the job they shared equated to a decision to walk away from _them_ as a couple. On any other day, he would have heeded that cautionary voice and done his best to set things right on-the-spot. If there was one thing he should have learned from the debacle with Sharova, it was that bottling things up only caused them to fester, ultimately making them much more damaging than the initial issue itself.

But sadly, today was not like any other day. Eric strove in vain to cut through the murky clutter in his head, at least enough to clue Calleigh into his immediate intention to take her to Puerto Rico with him. But her broken expression and the unshed tears shimmering in her green eyes froze the invitation on his suddenly paralyzed tongue. If her withdrawn affect was any indication, she would've turned him down, anyway. Besides, under the circumstances, it just seemed inappropriately lighthearted to blurt out, _"I'm heading to Puerto Rico for some R&R. Wanna join me?"_

Try as he might, Eric seemed incapable of getting any of the few articulate thoughts in his brain to travel to his mouth. And after his harrowing day, he was so emotionally spent that he didn't have it in him to continue the effort. In the end, exhaustion and claustrophobia trumped his desire to clarify matters with Calleigh right away, so he took the path of least resistance, electing not to address her statement directly.

"Like I said, you know me too well," he murmured, inwardly praying that it would be enough to satisfy her for the time being, but intuitively knowing that it wouldn't. He was well aware that his response was little more than a woeful cop-out that only served to compound the frustrating sense of ambiguity between them. But it was all that he could manage for now.

Hoping to communicate through actions what he couldn't with words, Eric leaned in and planted a tender kiss on Calleigh's soft lips, encircling her in a poignant embrace. As she returned his hug, he couldn't help but notice that her body was listless with resignation, as though, like him, all of the fight had gone out of her. The observation made his heart ache almost to the point of physical pain.

He took a final, prolonged look at her face -- so beautiful even in its sorrow -- before he turned and walked away from the woman he loved, and his life as he knew it.

The next day, he was on an airplane bound for Puerto Rico, alone.


	11. Chapter 11: Nostalgia

**Chapter 11 - Nostalgia**

Needless to say, this time, Eric's Puerto Rican holiday hadn't yielded the same desired results as all his previous trips to the picturesque island. Try as he might, he hadn't been able to rid himself of the persistent restlessness that had led to his abrupt departure from CSI, and continued thereafter. And if that hadn't been bad enough, since he'd left for his solo vacation, an unshakable sense of emptiness had settled over his already troubled state of mind. Nevertheless, he'd persevered, extending his visit from one week to two, and then four, hoping that the passage of time would give him the answers that had eluded him. After all, there had been no rush, since he'd no longer had a job to go back to. And an old college buddy had offered him the use of his unoccupied beachfront condo just outside of San Juan for next-to-nothing rates, so Eric had been able to stay as long as he'd wanted without putting a dent in his savings. Unfortunately, though, time hadn't proven to be the cure for what had ailed him.

Of course, from practically his first day there, he'd known deep down the reason for the incessant hollow feeling that had gnawed at his insides like a dull ache: Calleigh hadn't been with him. He'd found reminders of her in just about every aspect of the beautiful paradise that had surrounded him ... little wonder, since she was the most gorgeous woman he'd ever seen. While enjoying his daily morning cup of coffee on the balcony, he would gaze out at the ocean before him, losing himself in his solitary thoughts of her. Often, he'd find himself mesmerized by the glinting of the sun's rays off the crystalline aquamarine water, the turquoise green reflections reminding him so much of the sparkle in her eyes when she was excited about something, or giving him a treasured glimpse of her mischievous side.

The contact he'd had with Calleigh while he'd been away had only served to emphasize that his chances of achieving any kind of peace would be virtually nil unless she was a part of his life. He'd actually called her just before he'd left for Puerto Rico, but the call had gone straight to voicemail. (He'd subsequently learned that she'd spent her day off volunteering with Natalia at the local Organic Community Garden; an understandable reaction to the previous day's deaths caused by genetically engineered crops). He'd tried again shortly after settling into his holiday digs, and this time, Lady Luck had been on his side and Calleigh had answered. He'd let her know where he was, and had gently hinted at the reasons for his trip, telling her that he'd needed some time away to "clear his head." (If only she'd known the half of it!) He'd been tempted to reveal his now-abandoned plan to invite her to go with him, but something in her voice had halted him. She'd sounded so chipper and seemingly pleased that he'd gone off by himself, that he hadn't been sure that she'd welcome any discussions of the romantic sort. So he'd settled for merely making her promise to stay in touch while he was overseas.

As always, Calleigh had remained true to her word, and she and Eric had exchanged phone calls or text messages every couple of days. With subtle determination, she'd always steered their conversations into safe waters: She'd catch him up on the (non-confidential) happenings at work, and he'd fill her in on his lazy vacation days, and what he'd observed on those few occasions when he'd roused himself from the lounge chair to go into town or tour the island. Her tone had always been decidedly - almost doggedly - bubbly during their chats, as though indicating that she'd placed him squarely back in the dreaded "Friend Zone." Of course, he hadn't minded her thinking of him as a friend. But her reluctance to discuss the proverbial "Elephant in the Living Room" - the _in limbo_ status of their intimate relationship - had frustrated him to no end. He hadn't pushed too hard on the subject, though, since he'd figured that it was better suited to an in-person conversation following his return to South Florida soil. Nonetheless, the unresolved state of his relationship with Calleigh hadn't helped his unsettled psyche any. In fact, after a month in Puerto Rico, he'd finally thrown in the towel and returned to the Magic City. And at that point, the only "resolution" he'd reached was that he'd have to do whatever it took to make things right with her again, since continuing to feel like there was a gaping hole in his heart was not an option.

As it'd turned out, Eric's much-anticipated face-to-face meeting with Calleigh had had to wait until almost two weeks after his Miami homecoming. They'd continued to keep in contact via phone, but one thing or another - usually some excuse on her end - had stood in the way of them actually seeing each other. In the interim, he'd been contacted by Adrianna Villani, one of the city's most prominent and successful criminal defense attorneys, offering him a job as her forensics expert witness. At the time, he'd still been at loose ends on the employment front, and while he'd been trying to figure out his next career move, his bank account hadn't been getting any bigger. He'd dismissed the misgivings he'd had about working for the defense rather than the prosecution by telling himself that he needed to make a living. Besides, though he'd be on the "other side" of the scales of justice, his new job would likely involve shadowing the MDPD's criminalists as they analyzed the evidence on his clients' cases. And he'd hoped that would mean that he'd get to spend time with Calleigh again, even if it would just be for professional reasons. It would have to do for the time being, at least until he figured out a way to redeem himself in her eyes.

* * *

By happy coincidence, the first case on which Eric served as Villani's consultant - the Summer Davenport homicide - was one assigned to Calleigh's CSI team. When he'd first gotten this bit of news, he'd briefly entertained the idea of surprising his erstwhile girlfriend by just showing up unannounced at the crime scene in question. But of course, he hadn't been able to contain himself, and he'd called her to give her a heads-up that he would be joining her and the rest of the investigative team on-site later that day. Predictably, her tone during their brief call had been businesslike, but he couldn't help but notice the subtly cheerful inflection in her voice, as though she was excited to see him, but doing her best to hide it. That realization had made him grin like a kid on Christmas morning, immensely pleased that she wasn't as unaffected by the prospect of seeing him as she'd apparently wanted him to believe.

Fortunately for Eric, he spotted Calleigh at the Davenport mansion before she caught a glimpse of him; otherwise, he would've made a complete fool of himself. He'd admittedly been dying to see her for the longest while, but nothing could have prepared him for his intense, instinctual reaction to laying eyes on her after what had seemed like centuries. The electrified goosebumps that he could never quite keep at bay in her presence, flared up all over his body in a wave of giddy euphoria, and his heart did a little flip-flop in his chest, somersaulting at the sight of her. She looked good ... _really _good. And not just because absence tended to make the heart grow fonder and all that. To say that she was a sight for sore eyes would've been a severe understatement, and for a split-second, he had to check himself to make sure that he wasn't actually drooling over her like some over-eager teenager.

Although Calleigh was standing over a pool of blood - or perhaps even more so because of her morbid surroundings - she seemed like a ray of blond, golden sunshine, cutting through the dour cloud that had been hanging over Eric for weeks on end. And naturally, everything male in him celebrated the fact that she was wearing a snug-fitting get-up that hugged her curves in all the right places, along with a pair of knee-high, "bombshell" leather boots that never failed to make him forget his own name. Her back was to him, but he could see that she was speaking into a mini voice recorder, and he smiled inwardly as he pictured the earnest look of concentration that was probably etched across her lovely face, as it often was when she worked. It was an expression that he'd always found equal parts captivating and adorable; but he'd wisely kept this nugget to himself, figuring that it would've earned him nothing but a terse tongue-lashing from the object of his affection. The Calleigh Duquesne he knew would undoubtedly have chafed at the notion of being seen as even the slightest bit "cute" while doing anything job-related.

After taking a few seconds to compose himself, Eric surrendered to his urge to get closer to her, letting his audible footsteps alert her to his approach. She turned towards him, her eyes taking on a vivid, emerald glimmer when she recognized the person sidling up beside her.

"There's our expert witness," she greeted perkily. Her tone was warm and sincere, if a little guarded. And, as usual, her pretty smile made him a little breathless. He'd been privy to her infectious grin for well over a decade, but it still made him feel like the luckiest guy in the world whenever he was on the receiving end of it.

Barely a good thirty seconds into their discussion about the Davenport murder case, Calleigh - with her trademark perceptiveness - managed to home in on the moral dilemma that had been bothering Eric: The fact that working with Villani would mean representing defendants like Zach Finley, who were so obviously guilty of, or at least involved in, the crimes that they were suspected of committing. Eric was hardly surprised that it had taken his astute former partner less than a minute to get right to the heart of the issue. And he was equally unsurprised that she didn't buy his feeble pretext about signing on as Villani's consultant so he could "help people." Clearly, there were other ways to help people in the criminology field without going to work for one of Miami's most infamous defense attorneys. But, since disclosing one of the main reasons he'd taken the job in the first place - the possibility of getting close to Calleigh - was out of the question, he tried to deflect her with platitudes. And as he expected, she called him on it.

"But in this case, the suspect ran from the house covered in blood. He spent the night in the victim's bed, and claims he never heard a thing. Do you honestly think he's innocent?" she deadpanned, sardonically lifting her eyebrows. The hint of sass in her voice set him straight even as it lit his fire. One of the things he loved about her was that she never shied away from challenging him when she thought he needed it. Not to mention that there was something about Calleigh copping a bit of an attitude that always turned him on, even when he was the target of her renowned interrogation skills.

Her insightfulness and razor-sharp tongue left Eric no choice but to throw up a white flag of sorts. "I think that we're both after the same thing ... the truth." Her piercing gaze softened a bit, indicating her decision to let him slide, for now.

"I'm only here to observe ... that's it," he added. And _observe_ he did, allowing his eyes to rake unabashedly over her tantalizing silhouette when she turned around to grab something from her kit.

Despite the fact that Calleigh was "Distraction Personified," Eric actually did manage to get some work done on the case at hand. He did an admirable job of keeping things professional as he studied her and the rest of Horatio's team conducting their investigation and evidence analysis. Indeed, thanks to their top-notch DNA tests, Zach was found to have AIS, a condition that rendered him incapable of sexually assaulting the victim, leading the State Attorney to drop both the murder and rape charges against the young homeless man.

Eric had transitioned so seamlessly back into being at CSI and working with his old team - and particularly with Calleigh - that he was almost sorry to see his client exonerated. Frankly, it felt as though Delko had never left his old MDPD stomping-grounds. So much so that Calleigh had to "gently" remind him that, without an accused client to defend, he no longer had a reason to need access to the lab.

"Alright. That's it. No more observing now that your client is in the clear," she informed him with a good-natured smirk. Plainly, they were both well aware of how much they'd enjoyed being in each others' company, though neither would admit it: Eric, because he was 99.9% certain that voicing such an admission would cause her to kick him out on his rear-end so fast that he'd have concrete burns from the sidewalk; and Calleigh, because, she was ... well, Calleigh. He could pretty much guarantee that she was going to keep playing it close to the vest; perhaps even more so now, given how complicated things were between them at the moment.

"Right," he acknowledged, feeling slightly defeated. "Okay, take care."

"What are you gonna do ... go back to Puerto Rico?" she asked, her voice stopping him in his tracks. He allowed himself to feel just a little bit hopeful at her question. Perhaps she wasn't ready for their day of effortless camaraderie and easy conversation to be over. Or, better still, maybe her query indicated a desire for him to stick around in Miami, near to her, and, with any luck, to see if they could salvage their intimate relationship.

"You know I love it there, but ... I missed Miami," he replied, letting his meaningful pause express the feelings that he wasn't sure she was ready to hear out loud.

"Miami missed you," she countered, without missing a beat. He felt himself drowning in the fathomless jade pools of her eyes, which reflected the emotions in his and conveyed the thinly-veiled metaphor in her words. Though Calleigh would probably rather submit to torture than concede this point aloud, her expression left no doubt that she'd missed him. And he was incredibly gratified (and relieved) to see that his romantic nostalgia wasn't as unrequited as he'd feared.

Eric **almost** spoke the feelings that had consumed him during his seemingly interminable time apart from her: _"I missed you."_ Her absence had pained him more than the worst migraine he'd ever had, while being just as constant throughout each day that she hadn't been with him. Seeing her again, even in a professional capacity, had only made it hit home all the harder how much he needed her in his life, and not just as a friend. He had to let her know how much she meant to him ...

But this was neither the time nor the place to do so. He reminded himself that they were standing in front of the lab, in plain view of any CSI staff-member who might happen to wander by. Any passionate declarations that Eric made right now would doubtless be overheard by prying ears, an outcome that would surely displease ultra-private Calleigh. He was already treading on thin ice with her where the issue of trust was concerned, and making their personal conversation public would probably only make matters worse in that regard. Besides, if her friendly-but-reserved demeanor was anything to go by, he'd have to ease her back into the idea of them as a couple. And that was going to take time and finesse. Abruptly blurting out his affections - even if they were heartfelt - would most likely cause her to clam-up, and set him back to square one.

So instead, Eric confined himself to a topic that she felt safe with - work. He mentioned that Villani had offered him a contract, but that he was going to decline it because of the same moral dilemma that Calleigh had intuitively exposed earlier.

"You know, I heard the State Attorney's Office is looking for a forensic expert," she revealed. Eric was further encouraged by her suggestion, viewing it as confirmation that she wanted him in her neck of the woods. Evidently, it couldn't have escaped her that they would come into contact often if he worked for the S.A. Whether she wanted him close to her as a friend or more-than-a-friend remained to be seen, but, for now, he'd take it.

"Talbot? Alright, good to know. I'll think about it." Truth be told, he'd do more than think about it. In fact, he planned on dusting off his resume and applying for the position as soon as he walked out of CSI Headquarters.

During the course of his little chat with Calleigh, Eric also made another significant resolution: That he'd move heaven and earth to get their derailed romantic relationship back on track. When he'd confessed to her almost a year earlier that he couldn't imagine living his life without her, he'd truly meant it; in some ways, now more than ever. And he swore to do everything in his power to make sure that he'd never know what it felt like to live without her ... as his best friend, his lover, his everything.

This newfound sense of purpose comforted him as they parted ways for what would, thankfully, be only a short time.


	12. Chapter 12: New Beginnings

_Author's Note: Here at last, folks, is Chapter 12, the final chapter of my fic. (Coincidentally, the story is a "dozen" chapters long! LOL). This installment took longer than usual for me to finish and post due to insane job hours and another nasty cold. I also took a bit of extra time writing this last chapter, because I wanted make sure that I got it "just right," or at least as close to "just right" as I could manage. _ :-)

_The beginning of this fic was based on spoilers for "Backfire" (episode 8.20), and the story has come full circle, ending appropriately with that episode as well. ("Backfire" initially aired in the USA on April 19, 2010, around the time I wrote Chapter 8 of this tale). Please note, however, that several elements of Chapter 12 differ from the events that actually took place in "Backfire," and this chapter also contains several add-on scenes; most notably, the one at the end of this piece. As such, it may not necessarily be completely consistent with subsequent episodes. But hey, what's fanfic for, if not to employ a little "creative license" (LOL)!_

_For the faithful and supportive readers who've been following this fic from its inception, many thanks, and I hope you've enjoyed the ride. And I hope you enjoy this final chapter_.

* * *

**Chapter 12 - New Beginnings**

Eric's goal of repairing his unsettled relationship with Calleigh turned out to be much easier to reach in some respects than in others. Despite the emotional roller-coaster that they'd been on for the past few months, the intense attraction between them had never diminished, so getting her to trust him with her body again was a relatively seamless undertaking. Getting her to trust him with her heart was another matter entirely.

In a fitting coincidence, Eric and Calleigh resumed their physical relationship on New Year's Eve - a time for resolutions and fresh starts - and a night that resulted in a new beginning of sorts for the would-be couple. The day after Christmas, Ryan had called to invite Eric to join a contingent from CSI that would be kicking off the New Year at a shindig at Cosmo Lounge, one of the hottest nightspots on South Beach. Wolfe and Delko had remained on good terms after the latter had left the MDPD a few months prior, and the slight tension that had arisen from Eric's misguided decision to serve as Adrianna Villani's forensics expert had quickly dissipated once he quit working for the defense attorney. Though Delko was no longer formally with the department, many of his former co-workers still considered him part of the "CSI family," and Ryan had figured that his one-time colleague might like to celebrate with the group.

Calleigh had also invited Eric to join the CSI gathering at the NYE bash, so he could "hang out with everybody," as she so understatedly put it. Naturally, getting the inscrutable Ms. Duquesne to actually admit that _she_ wanted to spend time with him would've been like pulling teeth. Nevertheless, he still liked to think that at least some tiny kernel of her invitation had stemmed from the fact that she wanted to ring in the New Year with him by her side.

On the night in question, the twosome arrived separately at Cosmo: Although they'd made major progress toward repairing their friendship, in her book, they were apparently still not close enough to show up to events together. (He'd not yet re-earned the privilege of acting as though they were a couple; an issue that he planned on remedying sooner rather than later). Delko got to the venue first and did his best, largely in vain, to mingle to distract himself from Calleigh's absence. When she entered the club about half-an-hour later, Eric was sitting on one of the plush banquettes in a corner that had been commandeered by the MDPD revelers, shooting the breeze with Dave Benton and Mike Travers. Truth be told though, the former CSI was only half-listening to the conversation around him because his eyes kept scanning the growing crowd for Calleigh. When he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up - as they often did in her presence since the first time he'd met her - he knew that she'd arrived.

Eric thanked his lucky stars that he was sitting down when Calleigh first came into view, or else his embarrassing reaction to her would've earned him months of teasing by his male compatriots. She was always absolutely gorgeous to him, even when she was flat in bed with a raging case of the flu, but tonight, she looked like a million bucks, and then some. Much to his chagrin, she'd stopped wearing her signature halters and tank-tops to the office shortly after Speedle's death, but luckily for Eric, she wasn't averse to whipping this type of attire out of her closet for special social occasions. She was sporting a sleeveless, cowl-neck top made out of some type of shimmering material, which provided tantalizing glimpses of her cleavage every time she moved. The blouse's iridescent sea-green hue accentuated the beautiful color of her eyes and offset the natural highlights in her loose, blond mane. And as if that weren't enough to make his tongue hit the floor, her lower body was clad in a pair of leather pants that clung to her delicious curves like a second skin. Capping off her awe-inspiring get-up was a pair of black, patent leather stilettos that had always been his kryptonite, making him feel all of fifteen again, and just as hormonal. Fortunately, he had the presence of mind to cross his legs to avoid revealing just how much the sight of her was affecting him.

Calleigh didn't see Eric right away, since Maxine Valera accosted her the second she walked up to the CSI gathering and whisked her away to stand near a sofa dominated by the ladies in the group. In typical fashion, the DNA analyst immediately started talking the fair-haired CSI's ear off; no doubt, about some "cute guy" that the brunette had set her sights on for the evening. When Delko had finally recovered from his dumbfounded state and brought his wayward nether regions under control, he excused himself from Benton and Travers (garnering knowing looks from the two guys), and walked over to meet the woman who'd commanded his attention for most of the night, even _before_ she'd joined the festivities. Between the loud music and the din from the surrounding crowd, Calleigh didn't realize that Eric had approached her from behind until she felt his warm breath on her shoulder and heard the greeting he spoke in her ear.

"Hey beautiful. You look absolutely stunning tonight."

She gasped in surprise - and perhaps, from something more - and, even in the dimly-lit room, he could have sworn that he noticed a blush creeping up her neck. Before Calleigh could fashion a reply, Valera piped up with her always-impeccable timing. Eyebrow raised, the lab tech wryly commented, "Well, I guess this is my cue to make like Casper and disappear, right?" Cutting off Calleigh's automatic denial, Maxine lightheartedly rolled her eyes and continued, "Don't even try to deny it ... you two are practically making googly-eyes at each other. Besides, my Prince Charming awaits." And with that, Valera was gone.

When her notoriously nosy female counterpart was out of earshot, Calleigh whirled around to face Eric. She paused for a beat, and he could see the wheels turning in her head, as though she were considering whether to call him out for greeting her with such an intimate endearment. He'd given her the nickname "beautiful" after they'd started dating (although he'd thought of her that way for years), and he figured that, since they were technically no longer a couple, she'd take him to task for using it. But she apparently decided to let it go, and instead, graced him with one of her megawatt smiles.

"You don't look half bad yourself, hot stuff," she replied, as her gaze roamed over him appreciatively. With a grin of his own, he remembered the first time Calleigh had complimented him with that moniker ... he'd been on cloud nine for days.

The two ended up chatting for close to an hour; as always, their conversation flowed so effortlessly that neither realized that so much time had passed. In fact, they would've kept right on gabbing if Natalia hadn't stopped by to recruit Calleigh for a "ladies room break." (Eric could never figure out why women always seemed to want to visit the restroom in groups).

"See you later, Cal. And don't forget to save me a dance ... preferably right around midnight," he said with a sly smirk, only half-teasing. With any luck, at the moment of truth, he'd be reacquainting himself with the feel of Calleigh's soft lips against his.

"You're something else, you know that, Delko?" she laughed, as she walked away to join Natalia. But the flirtatious look in her eyes revealed that she was more than a bit interested in his proposition.

By the time the "30 minutes 'til midnight" notice flashed across the plasma screens scattered throughout the club, the party was in full swing, and everyone was having a ball, aided no doubt by the half-priced drinks at the bar and seemingly bottomless flutes of free Cristal. Eric had never been a huge fan of champagne; an ice-cold lager being his typical beverage of choice. Besides, the medication he was taking for his still-healing brain injury made over-indulging in booze a really bad idea, so he settled for nursing a couple of lite beers over the course of the evening. Calleigh, on the other hand, had been somewhat more liberal in her alcohol consumption. At this point, the firearms expert was nowhere near drunk (she didn't like the out-of-control feeling that came with being completely plastered), but she was clearly buzzed and feeling no pain. The bubbly she'd consumed had loosened her up, making her a little giddy, and a lot giggly. It was quite entertaining to watch the über-professional, always composed Calleigh Duquesne letting go of a few of her inhibitions and kicking up her heels for a change.

Eleven-thirty p.m. found Eric's fetching erstwhile girlfriend taking the dance floor by storm, with Natalia and a few other equally tipsy female CSI staff-members in tow. He'd barely taken his eyes off Calleigh since she'd walked into the NYE bash, but he couldn't help but notice that several men were circling the ladies like hawks hunting their prey, awaiting the slightest "opening" to swoop in and get their clutches into a member of the clique. And perhaps he was biased, but to Delko, it looked like most of these guys were focused on the golden-haired, green-eyed beauty in the killer stilettos at the center of the fray. (Of course, none of these aspiring Romeos was from the MDPD, since every guy in the department knew better than to stick his nose into whatever was happening between Duquesne and Delko). With a streak of possessiveness that he'd never known he had, Eric sidled up to her, slipped a territorial arm around her waist and drew her close to him, hoping to show her wannabe suitors that she was off the market.

If Calleigh was in any way put off by his testosterone-fueled display, she gave no indication of it. Rather, she reciprocated his embrace by resting her hands on his hips and falling into step with him as a change in rhythm signaled the start of the next song. In no time, the twosome were grinding against each other, simulating the "horizontal mambo" that would be the inevitable outcome of their mutual lust. Much to his delight, in her champagne-induced state of relaxation, she seemed unfazed by the possibility that her co-workers might spot them dirty-dancing. Come to think of it, it was probably just as well, since everyone at the office was already well aware that something romantic was going on between the ballistics specialist and the soon-to-be forensics expert for the State Attorney's Office.

At the rate they were going, it was hardly surprising that Eric and Calleigh heralded the midnight arrival of 2010 in a secluded corner of the nightclub, ravenously devouring each others' lips until the need for oxygen forced them to come up for air. _Happy New Year, indeed_.

It was well after three in the morning by the time the festivities began to wind down and the crowd started to thin out in earnest. A respectable number of hardcore clubbers continued to stick around, determined to carry out the time-honored tradition of partying until sunrise on New Year's Day, but Calleigh and Eric didn't plan on being among them. Delko didn't know how much longer he could keep his amped-up libido under control, not to mention the overwhelming urge to get his hands on the treasure trove that lay beneath her provocative outfit. And the way Calleigh's hands kept "accidentally" slipping beneath the base of his shirt to touch the bare skin of his stomach, certainly wasn't helping his floundering self-restraint. If they didn't get to someplace much more private - and soon - he was going to get both of them busted for public indecency.

Claiming that she still felt too "buzzed" to safely get behind the wheel, Calleigh asked Eric whether he would mind driving her home. But she'd been far from drunk to begin with, and she'd sobered-up considerably since switching from Cristal to Perrier water a couple of hours ago, so he couldn't help but wonder whether her request was, at least in part, a means for them to take their PG-13 lip-locking to a more "adult" level behind closed doors. Either way, he wasn't complaining. His condo was only a few minutes away from Cosmo, so he suggested that they crash there instead. That way, she could pick up her car later en route back to her place, instead of having to drive all the way down to South Beach from Bal Harbor, and then back up north again. He held his breath a little after making his suggestion, almost sure that she would turn him down cold. But instead, she accepted his invitation with a grateful smile, confirming his hunch about how she really wanted their night together to end.

As expected, they'd barely crossed the doorway of Eric's condo before they pounced on each other, the clattering of popping buttons and rasping of lowered zippers punctuating the usual stillness of the pre-dawn hours. These sounds were soon replaced by pleasured gasps and ardent moans, as the couple made up for the torturous weeks of lonely celibacy that they'd endured since Eric's trip to Puerto Rico. As the two reached one ecstatic explosion after another, Delko definitely saw fireworks, stars, sparklers and the like, and not from the straggling firecrackers still going off in the distant sky. Finally able to give free rein to their mutual passion, the reunited lovers were insatiable, and it was well past sun-up when the exhausted duo eventually took a breather, collapsing into a deep, sated sleep. _What a way to ring in the New Year!

* * *

_

Much to Eric's relief - at least, initially - the proverbial "morning after" that memorable New Year's Eve wasn't the least bit weird or awkward. When he and Calleigh finally surfaced around one o'clock in the afternoon, she was all sunny smiles and vivacious energy, as though they hadn't burned up his bedsheets just a few short hours ago. He knew her well enough to recognize that her determined cheerfulness was just a façade; a way to avoid discussing the ramifications of the previous night's intimacy. Nonetheless, he let her evasiveness slide that first day, simply content to bask in the fact that she'd been back in his arms and in his bed, where he planned on keeping her. So they went out for brunch before he took her back to Cosmo to fetch her car, and then they parted ways with a friendly kiss.

In the ensuing weeks, a similar scenario repeated itself for the couple, and often. As he'd predicted, Calleigh chalked their intimate New Year's Eve encounter up to the effects of the champagne (though they both knew otherwise). But then one "slip up" a couple of days later turned into two, then three, and then many others too numerous to count. Each time they slept together, she reminded him of what an unwise idea she thought it was. And each time, with the same flimsy excuse about not wanting to "ruin our friendship," she made him promise that it wouldn't happen again. Eric said the words just to placate her, but that wasn't really what he wanted, deep down. While he surely had no desire for their amazing sex to end (he was a red-blooded male, not a saint, after all), he needed more than simply being her "bed buddy." In all honesty, if someone had told him five years ago that he'd be dissatisfied with toe-curling, friends-with-benefits sex, he would've referred them to the nearest psych ward. And yet, Eric's feelings for Calleigh had landed him in exactly this predicament. However, in his opinion (unlike hers), the answer wasn't to distance themselves from each other physically and emotionally. Rather, he believed that the solution lay in _more_ intimacy, not less, and that the best way to achieve it would be for the both of them to take an honest crack at fixing their relationship.

Thankfully, Calleigh took the bull by the horns before all of their unspoken issues could do any irreversible damage. Right after they'd solved the Bradstone murder case (a matter on which the S.A.'s office and MDPD had collaborated), she accosted him in the CSI locker room with her version of the dreaded, "We need to talk." And although he was by no means immune to the fear that this phrase had been striking in the hearts of men since the dawn of time, in hindsight, talking through it all proved to be a monumental step forward for them as a couple. By putting all of their hurt feelings, lingering mistrust, and insecurities out in the open, they were able to tackle them head-on and resolve them together. In the end, the process made them even closer, and firmer than ever in their commitment to each other and to their relationship.

* * *

Since that time (up until her second bout of smoke inhalation), everything has been pretty much perfect, except for one thing: Eric has never actually told Calleigh that he loves her. More opportunities missed; more moments wasted. And now, as she lies motionless before him in the blindingly-white hospital room, he realizes that she might leave this earth, and him, forever, without ever knowing just how much she truly means to him. When she went into cardiac arrest about two hours ago, he felt as if his own heart had stopped right along with hers. His career as a CSI exposed him to some of the most gruesome circumstances imaginable, but none of them even came close to the crushing sense of panic that hit him like a ton of bricks when the shrieking alarm from the vital signs monitor signaled the worst of all possible scenarios. Fortunately, the doctors managed to get Calleigh's heart beating again, but shortly thereafter, she slipped back into unconsciousness and remains in critical condition. Eric's been cautioned that her prognosis will be touch-and-go unless she permanently regains consciousness and starts breathing on her own. He knows that he won't be able to move, breathe, or have the slightest peace of mind _until_ she opens her eyes and he sees for himself that she's come back to him. (He prefers to think in terms of "untils" and "whens" rather than "ifs," because the latter suggests an alternative much too painful for him to contemplate). Consoling himself with the cross that she gave him when he was in a similar position three years ago (and which he's always kept with him since), he prays with his entire being that he'll get the chance to finally share all of his emotions with her, to make it right once and for all.

As though her subconscious can read his mind, Calleigh awakens, blinking rapidly as her vision adjusts to the oppressive glare from the florescent overhead lights. Eyes darting around the sterile room, she tries to overcome the disorientation so typical of patients emerging from prolonged unconsciousness. In an attempt to avoid startling her, Eric squelches the urge to let out an elated holler, and instead, gently slips his hand in hers and squeezes tenderly.

"I'm right here, Cal. Right here," he whispers soothingly. His voice centers her scattered attention and she turns toward him, her gaze changing from one of confusion to one of happy recognition as the cobwebs clear and she realizes that he's right beside her. She acknowledges his reassurance by lightly squeezing his hand, and he's overjoyed that she has the strength to perform the gesture.

"Welcome back," he says with a relieved grin, lovingly stroking her blond locks. She reciprocates with a small smile of her own, which still has the power to warm up the room despite the breathing tube that remains in her mouth. For the next couple of minutes, while Calleigh continues to regain her bearings, Eric revisits the mental catalog of recollections that occupied his thoughts as he waited for her to awaken from her comatose state. And as he murmurs comfortingly to her, he realizes that there are three small, but significant words that he needs to say to her right now. No more delays, no more hesitation. If there's one thing this harrowing experience has taught him, it's that life is too short and too unpredictable for "wait-and-sees." And that second chance you take for granted might never materialize. He'll be damned before he blows another opportunity to let her know how he really feels. It's time.

"Cal, look at me," he begins. "I love you, and I can't lose you, babe." A little nervous about leaving such a major declaration hanging out there on its own, he quickly continues, "Please promise me that, from here on out, you'll leave the fire rescues to the professionals, okay?" Calleigh's eyes grow as wide as saucers at his emotional announcement. She opens her mouth as if to speak, but no sound comes out due to the breathing tube still in her throat.

"Shh," Eric cautions. "I don't think it's a good idea to try talking with the tube still in." His concerned irises - the color of warm, rich Caribbean rum - search her still pale face, trying to gauge her reaction to his long-overdue outpouring of feelings. But aside from her initial shock, her languid affect is making her quite hard to read, probably because she's still a bit groggy from her medication. And it's just the opening that his persistent self-doubt needs to overtake his mind once more. He figures that her temporary muteness might be a blessing in disguise, since, from his vantage point, it seems very doubtful that she's going to reciprocate his heartfelt confession. His gaze flickers to the pen and notepad on the bedside table (out of Calleigh's limited range of sight), but he decides against handing them to her. She needs to rest, and besides, he's in no hurry to read a laundry list of reasons why she can't return his feelings aloud. Better to delay the disappointment that he's virtually sure is forthcoming. Brushing aside his unease, he tries for levity, falling back on the boyish charm that never fails to coax a smile from the object of his affection.

"Can you give me a little nod, so I know we have a deal?" Eric prompts, reminding her of his unanswered request for a promise. Calleigh drops her chin slightly, indicating her assent. "Good, because, left to me, you'd never go near any kind of open flame ever again ... no campfires, no fireplaces ... not even a candle," he adds with a laugh. His attempt at humor has the desired effect on her, provoking what starts out as a giggle, but quickly turns into a strangled grimace.

"Alright ... I think that's my cue to call for a nurse to check you out and get rid of that breathing tube," he smiles, reaching for the "Call" button beside the bed. In less than a minute, an RN swoops into the room, shooing Eric outside as she tends to her patient and pages the doctor.

About thirty minutes later, having completed his examination of Calleigh, the doctor exits the room and approaches Eric, who's been standing with his face practically pressed against one of the large glass windows surrounding the alcove. The physician informs him that, although they still don't know why her heart stopped, the results of her exam and tests have all come back normal. Eric releases a breath he didn't realize he was holding, as the last few hours of agonizing tension leave his body. Anxious to see her, he has to restrain himself from sprinting to her bedside, and instead, quietly enters the room, his footfall barely audible against the cool tile floor. She greets him with a buoyant smile and a small wave, and he notices that her cheeks have started to regain their color, a realization that thrills him tremendously.

"Hi," he greets softly, as he sits beside her.

"Hi," she breathes in reply. As expected, no sound crosses her lips, since her throat and vocal cords are still sore from all the tubes and the smoky, soot-filled air that she inhaled in the fire.

"Don't try to speak," he gently admonishes, chuckling a little at her tenacity. Trust his determined Southern Belle to attempt speech even when her body and voice refuse to play ball. She sighs, relenting for the time being, and then fixes him with her trademark jade gaze ... the one she saves especially for him ... the one that never fails to hypnotize. As he regards her in return, he recognizes a familiar emotion in her eyes that he's certain is reflected in his. Love, perhaps? Or is she merely glad to see him? After all, it would scarcely be unusual for her to be happy to see her boyfriend, especially after surviving the life-threatening events that she's endured.

Before Eric can pursue this train of thought, he notices a movement out of the corner of his eye, and turns toward it. Calleigh follows his line of sight, and they spot Horatio, pacing outside of the room like the concerned surrogate father he is to them both. She's chomping at the bit to give H. a message, presumably about the investigation into the arson that resulted in the death of a teenage boy and put her in the hospital. Her guts and dedication never cease to impress Eric - they've made him a better criminalist, and without question, a better man. They're just two more of the countless reasons why he loves her, and why she completes him so perfectly.

* * *

Eric doesn't know how she pulled it off, but by nightfall, Calleigh has managed to get herself sprung from Dade Memorial. The doctors would've preferred to keep her overnight for observation, but without a medical mandate to stay put, he should have known that his headstrong girlfriend would be out of there faster than greased lightning. With the mesmerizing look that always turns him into a spineless "yes-man," she swiftly made mincemeat of his misgivings and pleas for her to remain in the hospital until the next morning. And what's more, she's succeeded in convincing him not only to drive her home, but also to stop by CSI Headquarters on the way, ostensibly just for her to pick up some personal items. Fortunately, he was able to cajole her into agreeing to one condition for her early release from the hospital: Letting him be her shadow for the next twenty-four hours. As fiercely-independent as she is, he's pretty sure that she's not going to like him hovering over her (or "fussing," as she calls it) and forcing her to take it easy, but she's just going to have to deal. Knowing Calleigh, she's liable to push herself too far too soon, and he wants to make sure that she doesn't.

Predictably, however, she's unable to resist trying to squeeze in a little work during their brief stopover at her office. He takes his eyes off her for less than five minutes - to touch base with Horatio about another case - and returns to find both her locker and her desk deserted, with no sign of her nearby. Some sixth sense tells Delko that Calleigh's at the morgue, so - taking a route he knows like the back of his hand - he heads over to that wing of the building. Sure enough, there she is, standing near the entryway with an intensely pensive look on her expressive face, lost in contemplation as she stares across the room at the lifeless body of Patrick Dawson, the teenage boy who died in the same fire that put her own life in danger.

"Babe, work will still be here tomorrow. You should be back at the hospital," Eric says, reminding her of his objections to her early discharge. Her stubborn decision to refuse a precautionary overnight stay is risky enough; he's not about to let her put herself back in the E.R. by overdoing it.

She lets him draw her weary body against his and lays her head on his chest, seeking solace in his solid frame . "Yeah, you know ... you've had this job before. You know sometimes there are just things you need to do," she responds. Well, there's no arguing with that. During his tenure as a CSI, he can't tell you how many times he pulled "all-nighters" - working through his exhaustion - because a case wouldn't let him rest until he finished a particular task or resolved some thorny issue. With all that's happened today, Calleigh hasn't gotten around to filling him in on the details of the arson investigation yet, but Eric can tell that this case has touched her even more deeply than usual. One of the many things he admires about her is her compassion for the victims of the heinous crimes she encounters every day, especially when they're children. He remembers how troubled she was by the recent homicide investigation involving Phoebe Nichols, a teen pop star and mega-celebrity who'd been exploited by everyone around her, including her own mother. But Calleigh seems even more profoundly affected by Patrick's death, which has clearly left her shaken. It's almost as if she had a personal connection to the young man whose life was so tragically cut short.

"It's the strangest thing, but I feel like I knew him," she observes, confirming Eric's intuition. Then she walks over to the deceased teenager and with a gentle touch to his face, whispers, "Rest in peace," as though bidding him farewell. The moving scene brings a lump to Eric's throat as he shares her pain, overcome with emotion for the beautiful, caring woman before him.

Having achieved the closure she sought, Calleigh shuts the refrigerator and turns to rejoin Eric near the doorway, reaching out for him as she steps across the room. He willingly meets her halfway and enfolds her in a sympathetic embrace, sensing just how much she needs it right now. He feels her relax in his arms and she sags against him, letting him support her completely for a change as she lets go of the fear, stress and grief of the past day.

Just when he thinks she's going to pull away, she rises on her tiptoes, her warm breath teasing the shell of his ear as she says the words he's waited forever to hear: "I love you too, Eric." Her whispered confession sends a spark of jubilation streaking down his spine, his heart instantly so full that it feels like it's going to explode out of his chest. He has to grit his teeth to keep from hugging her with all the ardor he feels, fearful of squeezing the air out of her fragile lungs. So he settles for holding her close for a few more moments - though he'd stay like this forever, if he had his way - and then dropping an affectionate peck on her forehead.

As his lips brush against her soft skin, Eric can't help but notice that she's a little flushed. He takes a step back to study her face, and his suspicions are confirmed by the blush on her cheeks and her subtly shy gaze. The observation makes his lips twitch as he tries in vain to suppress a grin at her adorableness. She can face-off with the most intimidating suspects without batting an eyelash, but when it comes to revelations of the romantic sort, she still feels a bit out of her element.

"C'mon, let's go home," she proposes, recovering nicely and eliciting a knowing smirk from him. Her voice is slightly husky with emotion, which pleases him to no end; not to mention the intimacy that her use of the word "home" suggests. As they leave the morgue, she reaches for his hand, sending his pulse happily tripping over itself.

"Sounds good to me," he replies, smiling warmly as he threads his fingers through hers. And with that, the two turn to walk to the elevator, and into their future, together.

_A dozen years of "**almosts**" are finally over._

**THE END**


End file.
